Painting Flowers
by FictionChic
Summary: What if Luna Lovegood had an older sister? Lyra Lovegood's favorite things to do are spend time with her little sister looking for Nargles & Wrackspurts & taking walks throughout the forest. When Lyra leaves the safety of her home to start attending Hogwarts, everything begins to change. With secrets that only a few people are aware of, Lyra isn't sure who she can & can't trust.
1. Chapter 1

In a rock-like shaped house near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole lived a family. A strange one at that to those who had heard the rumors of whom occupied the house. On the front of the rickety gate, signs had been tacked up with rusty nails by the head of the small family. One sign in particular read _'Editor of The Quibbler.'_

 _The Quibbler_ was a wizarding tabloid published and edited by a wizard of the name Xenophilius Lovegood, whose wife had only died a few years prior when one of the spells that she had been experimenting with backfired. Her tragic death led Xeophilius to care for his two children alone. Luna and Lyra Lovegood. Luna was ten while Lyra had just recently turned eleven.

Lyra in particular was the strangest of all out of the three Lovegoods. Although, with her golden blonde hair that fell a little past her waist in perfect pin-curls, her porcelain skin, faint eyebrows, and wide silver eyes that always held a dreamy look and almost looked too big for her face – she looked normal enough.

Maybe it was the fact that the girl was constantly seen without shoes or socks on (at least her toes were well-trimmed and painted) that made people wary of her. Or that she spent most of her time wandering through a small, but dense forest that was a little ways from her house with her younger sister looking for things called "Nargles" and "Wrackspurts." Or maybe even it was the fact that her only friends seemed to be animals and that she was often found whispering things to flowers and trees as if they had minds of their own and could actually talk back.

In fact, that's exactly what Lyra was currently doing that warm sunny day – wandering through the forest. The dirt was warm yet cooling on Lyra's bare feet and she loved it. She enjoyed spending time amongst the trees and nature. In the forest…she had friends. Rabbits, deer, groundhogs, owls, snakes, and all sorts of woodland creatures would always make their way over to her.

"Hello there, little one," Lyra smiled at the small bunny that had hopped near the log she had been sitting on. She reached out and pulled the creature into her lap, stroking the bunny behind her ears, "Have you seen any Crumple-Horned Snorlacks lately?"

The bunny simply continued to sit there, but Lyra nodded as though the rodent had spoken to her, "That's quite alright, Helia. I haven't found any either. I thought I had spotted one, but it turned out to be a rock."

The dreamy look that constantly graced Lyra's face, intensified as she gazed up at the bright sky. It would be autumn soon. Autumn was her favorite season.

" _Lyra?"_

"Don't be frightened," Lyra soothed the small animal that twitched its perky ears and looked ready to flee, "That's just my father. He's really nice. Do you want to meet him?"

"There you are, darling," Xenophilus appeared, a small smile on his face, "Did you make a new friend?"

Lyra nodded, her eyes bright, "Yes, daddy. Her name is Helia. I think she rather likes me."

"Lovely," Xeno knelt down to stroke the black bunny, "Perhaps you can take her back with us? It would be a shame for the Nargles to get her."

"Okay," Lyra stood gracefully and began to follow her father, her light golden blonde hair blowing in the summer wind, "Is Luna feeling any better?"

"A bit," Xenophilius held out a hand and Lyra accepted it gratefully, shifting Helia in her arms, "I suspect Wrackspurts, but I've given her a potion and it seems to be helping. Do not forget that someone is arriving to take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow. One of your Professors if I am not mistaken."

"Ah, yes," Lyra nodded. Her father was originally supposed to take her, but then Luna had fallen ill one week prior and her father had to stay home and take care of her, "Do I have to wear shoes?"

"Of course not," Xenophilius waved off the thought instantly even though his own feet were covered by the footwear that Lyra seemed to detest.

"Oh, goodie," Lyra smiled and tilted her head to the side as they approached their house, "They're like prisons for your feet."

Xeonophilius leaned down and kissed Lyra's forehead, "Why don't you go upstairs and visit your sister? I'll try to find some food for Helia and I'll bring you two some tea."

"Okay," Lyra began to climb the wrought-iron spiral staircase that rested in the middle of their brightly painted kitchen and led to the upper floors. She rasped on the door with her knuckles, "Luna? It's me."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned the golden doorknob and opened the door. Luna's room had one window, and a pale blue carpet. By her queen-sized bed, Luna had a picture of her and her mother hugging. Luna also had a wardrobe in the room that was pressed up against one of the walls.

The youngest Lovegood sister peered up from the recent copy of _The Quibbler_. Her nose was slightly red and a box of tissues rested on her bedside table, "Hello, Lyra. Ooh, you found a friend!"

"Her name is Helia," Lyra took a seat on the edge of Luna's bed and passed her the small animal, "I found her in the forest. I think she was hiding from Wrackspurts as she did seem a bit confused, but daddy suspects that Nargles were trying to find her."

"Are you going to take her to Hogwarts with you?" Luna asked curiously, pushing a lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear.

"I think so," Lyra nodded, "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you very much," Luna agreed, patting her sister's knee fondly. She sneezed into a tissue and sniffled, "But daddy says that I get to attend Hogwarts next year and you will come home for the holidays? You'll write to me won't you?"

"Of course," Lyra told her in her soft dream-like voice, "Daddy said he'll give me some extra copies of _The Quibbler_ to give out to people as well."

"Really?" Luna's eyes lit up, "Yay. Maybe you could contact me through the trees as well or the flowers. They speak to you, don't they?"

"Uh-huh," Lyra smiled, "I'll ask them. I'm sure they'd be happy to. They rather like you a lot."

The wooden door was pushed open once more and their father stepped in carrying a small metal tray. Two teacups rested upon it as well as a bright orange carrot which he handed to Lyra,"How are you feeling, Luna?"

"Much better," Luna accepted the warm cup of tea gratefully, "I think the Wrackspurts are gone. My brain isn't fuzzy anymore and my nose feels better. It was the Gnome saliva that helped."

"Ah, yes," Xeno inspected the bite and lightly brushed a finger over it, "Very beneficial."

"I'm going to wash my feet in the stream," Lyra decided, handing Luna the chewed up carrot, "Can you watch Helia for me?"

"Of course," Luna smiled, "But be careful of the water sprites. They'll try to bite off your toes."

"Okay, Luna," Lyra smiled at her younger sister and skipped through the hallway before hopping down the stairs and going back outside. Coming to the small stream that flowed outside their house, she plopped down onto the ground and gingerly placed her feet in, being careful not to get her pink sundress wet.

"What a pretty flower you are," she mumbled to the sunflower that was growing next to the stream, "Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?"

Shifting her position slightly, Lyra cupped her hands under the cool water and carefully poured it over the flower. She gently stroked its yellow petals with the tips of her fingers, "You're welcome."

* * *

"…And then I suppose they all taste the same, but having preferences is nice too. We could grow them here if you'd like. I don't think daddy would mind a new addition to the garden and…"

Lyra's eyes fluttered open slowly and she yawned as she sat up, using her fists to rub the sleep out of her eyes. When her vision finally cleared, she blinked a couple of times. Luna was sitting on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs back and forth with Helia in her lap. She was feeding the bunny water with a baby bottle, "Luna?"

Luna looked up, "Good morning, Lyra."

"Good morning," Lyra stifled a yawn.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Luna said, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, "I was talking to Helia about carrots."

"You didn't wake me," Lyra promised, "Did you have nice dreams?"

"Very nice," Luna smiled warmly and her eyes fell to the bottle in her hand, "Daddy gave me this. I think it used to be mine when I was small."

"I'll find her something when I go to Diagon Alley," Lyra leaned down and kissed Helia's head, "Are you feeling better, Luna?"

"Oh, yes," Luna nodded, her hair bouncing a little, "But daddy wants me to rest one more day," she blinked once more, staring at her sister for a moment, "You should bathe and get ready."

"Alright," Lyra tried her best to comb out her bedhead and gathered her clothes that she had laid out for the day and headed towards the small bathroom that contained a toilet, a sink, and an oddly shaped shower.

Once she had finished her morning routine, Lyra returned to her room to find that her sister had already gone downstairs and Helia was sleeping in the nest that had been built for her out of boxes, soil and other things that she would need to survive.

She dressed carefully but quickly and smiled at herself in the mirror as she twirled. Her sundress fanning out around her. Bouncing a little on her heels, she skipped out of the room and down the stairs, ending up in the middle of their kitchen, "Good morning."

"Good morning, sweetheart," Xeno rubbed Lyra's shoulder, "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmhm," Lyra took a seat at the table next to her sister and took a sip of her orange juice from a brightly painted mug.

For breakfast, they were having porridge with raisins and cinnamon, toast, sausage, and eggs.

"You can wear my radish earrings for good luck," Luna said, looking her sister up and down, "They'll look lovely with your outfit."

Lyra smiled around her spoon. She was wearing a white sundress that had light pink roses with dark green leaves on it and a pastel yellow belt wrapped around her waist. Her hair was down and her toenails were painted bright orange, "Thank you."

The family looked up from their breakfast when there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, that must be the Professor from Hogwarts to take you to Diagon Alley," Xenophilius stood from his chair, "Come, Lyra. Are you finished?"

"Yes," abandoning her dishes, Lyra stood up as well and hugged Luna goodbye, smiling when Luna helped her put in the earrings.

"You look quite nice," Luna told her dreamily, "And I'll watch Helia for you."

"Thank you," Lyra straightened her dress and peered curiously at her belt. Maybe she should have drawn the red polka dots on it, "Do you want me to bring you back anything?"

Luna tapped her chin with her pointer finger in thought, "I don't think so."

"Alright," Lyra wiggled her fingers when she heard her father call her from the door, "Bye-bye, Luna."

"Goodbye."

Lyra happily skipped her way over to her father, beaming when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"And this is my Lyra," Xenophilius said proudly, "My eldest daughter. Luna is in the kitchen finishing up her breakfast. Lyra, this is Professor McGonagall."

The woman that her father was referring to was stoic-looking but had a kind aura surrounding her. She was dressed in emerald green robes and her black hair was pulled into a tight bun that rested under a black witch's hat.

"Hello," Lyra said, snuggling closer to her father, "It's very nice to meet you."

"You as well," the Professor smiled, "I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts, am the Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress. We're very excited to have you start attending in the fall."

"Thank you," Lyra responded politely.

"Oh," McGonagall gasped when her eyes landed upon Lyra's feet, "Where are your shoes?"

Lyra blinked and glanced down at her feet and then back up at the Professor, her dreamy smile still on her young face, "They're prisons for your feet."

"I see," Professor McGonagall said hesitantly, "Well, are you ready to go get your school supplies?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra accepted the spangled silver bag from her father that contained her money pouch.

"Don't forget to buy food for Helia, darling," Xenophilius kissed the top of his daughter's head, "And be careful. I placed an extra protection charm on your pouch."

"Thank you, daddy," she wiggled her fingers again in farewell and followed McGonagall out the door, hopping down the steps as she so usually did.

"An extra protection charm?" McGonagall inquired curiously, "Your father should know that Diagon Alley is rather safe."

"He knows," Lyra assured her, skipping over a rock, "He's just concerned about the Nargles. They have been quite troublesome lately. That's how I found my pet bunny. I rescued her."

"How lovely," Minerva smiled. She was used to hearing about all sorts of strange creatures from Xenophilius' time at Hogwarts and from the covers of _The Quibbler_ that she often caught a glimpse of, "I must inform you…shoes are a requirement as a part of the uniform at Hogwarts."

"Are they?" Lyra hummed, "Luna has a pair of shoes with strawberries on them. Are those acceptable?"

"Yes. It may also be useful to know," McGonagall continued, "That your feet are usually not able to be visible due to the length of the school robes, but I would recommend shoes for some occasions."

"Wow," Lyra breathed, "Thank you very much. Oh! Are we taking the Muggle train?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagall nodded, handing her a ticket, "Is that alright?"

"What an interesting cloud," Lyra's eyes were drawn to the sky, "It looks like a heart."

McGonagall sighed and shook her head slowly. Lyra was definitely a Lovegood.

* * *

"Ah, there you are," McGonagall smiled as Lyra approached with a bag clutched in her hands, "I was able to find all of your schoolbooks. Did you get your school supplies?"

"Yes," Lyra held open the bag revealing thick stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of ink.

McGonagall pursed her lips. Not one bottle of the ink was black. She spotted turquoise, pink, green, orange, and even one that changed colors, but no black. She knew that she should have gone with her instead of separating, but Lyra had insisted on going by herself to the writing supplies shop.

"You're having a troubled thought," Lyra tilted her head to the side curiously, "Did I do something wrong?"

The Animagi's eyes widened and she stared at the girl almost curiously. Finally, she cleared her throat and touched Lyra's shoulder gingerly, "You didn't get any black ink."

"I know," Lyra observed the contents of her bag again, "It's a rather sad color, isn't it? Yes, very sad. It is the color for an occasion of mourning one's loss."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was unsure of what to say in a moment like this. Albus was a lot better in these types of situations than she was. She could definitely say that the girl was very blunt.

"Can we go there?" Lyra pointed to a sign that read _Magical Menagerie_ , "Please? I need some things for Helia."

"How about we go there after we get your wand?" Minerva suggested gently, "From Ollivander's? Is that alright?"

"Okay," Lyra clutched her book that contained her writing supplies and other things. She couldn't wait to show Luna and her father.

Elsa came to a quick stop, almost bumping into Professor McGonagall.

Peeling gold letters over the door of the shop read: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.._ The shop's display consisted of a solitary wand lying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. When they entered, Lyra was surprised at how tiny the shop itself was. It was empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing what must have been wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it.

"Ah, welcome, welcome," an old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop, "Professor McGonagall. Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, stiff."

"Hello, Ollivander," Minerva smiled warmly and placed a hand upon Lyra's shoulder, "This is Lyra Lovegood."

"Your eyes look like moons," Lyra smiled, "Pretty."

"You are indeed a Lovegood," Ollivander nodded to himself, "Yes, yes. Alright. Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," she answered.

"Very good," the wand-maker snapped his bony fingers and a tape measure appeared, beginning to measure Lyra everywhere.

Ollivander looked troubled for a moment as the tape measure disappeared, "Very tricky…very interesting. Oh, I know the perfect wand. It's been waiting for you, Ms. Lovegood."

"How sweet," Lyra smiled as he went to the back to fetch the box, "I hope it wasn't lonely."

Ollivander returned a few moments later with an old-looking box clutched in his hands. A thick layer of dust covered the top and he brushed it away, setting the box gently on the counter. With trembling hands, he lifted the lid and pulled out a wand, "One of a kind – I've only made one. A mix of vine and pine wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches, and a bit flexible. Give it a try."

Lyra took the wand from the box and immediately warmth flooded through her body. From the bottom of the wand, a vine sprouted and curled all the way around the instrument until it reached the very tip. Little green leaves began to pop up here and there.

"Oh my," McGonagall gasped.

Ollivander's eyes grew even wider and he clapped his hands in delight, "Yes, yes. Exactly as I thought. This wand has been eager to get to you, Ms. Lovegood. You will do extraordinary things with that wand as you are a very extraordinary girl!"

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Lyra placed her wand back into its box and Ollivander wrapped it up in paper, placing it in a bag, "Here you are, my dear. That will be seven galleons."

"Here," Lyra placed the money in his stretched out palm, "Thank you very much."

"Have a nice day, Ms. Lovegood. Enjoy your time at Hogwarts," Mr. Ollivander called as the two witches left his shop.

"Now," McGonagall stopped, "You wanted to go into _Magical Menagerie_?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded and began to walk towards the shop, "Helia does need a few things."

From the shop, Lyra had purchased small food dishes, the food itself, a water bottle, some treats, and a cage to carry her in.

"I think we have everything," Lyra skimmed the list, "Goodie."

McGonagall cleared her throat and guided Lyra into a sunlit alleyway. She knelt down so that she was eyelevel with the child. McGonagall's own eyes were soft, kind, and a bit sad, "You are aware that special arrangements have been made for your attendance to Hogwarts, aren't you?"

Lyra looked down and her arm and gently ran a few of her fingers over a scar the shape of a large bite mark, "Daddy bought me really long gloves. He says I can cover it if I wish."

"You may," McGonagall told her gently.

"Hungry," Lyra said suddenly, turning to look at McGonagall, "Can we go home now? Luna told me that we would have pudding when I got back."

McGonagall chuckled and shifted the many bags in her arms as she straightened to a standing position. She held out her hand for Lyra to take and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "Yes. We can return to your home now."

* * *

Lyra rested her elbows on her knees as she gazed up at the starry sky. She did love stars. They were like floating diamonds.

Although she was sad to be leaving her dad and her sister, Lyra had to admit that she was very very excited to start her first year at Hogwarts. Her father had told her all sorts of stories from his time there which only excited her even more.

Unconsciously, Lyra began to rub the mark on her arm. She had gotten it when she was only four as she had been wandering around the forest when they had lived in a cottage right outside of Yorkshire. Her mother had found her a few hours later and taken her to a magical hospital. Lyra didn't really remember what had happened after that as she had slept for two weeks.

She jumped when she felt something run across her feet. Looking down to see what it was, she gasped happily when she saw the medium-sized snake, "Oh, hello there! What are you doing out here so late at night?"

The snake peered up at her curiously, " _Looking for food. I think I'm losssst. I can't find my family_."

"There's a forest over there," Luna pointed to the bundle of tress that she could see in the distance, "You just go straight. Is that where you live?"

" _Yessss_ ," the snake seemed to nod, " _Thank you very much_."

"You're welcome," Lyra waved goodbye as the snake slithered away and soon, she couldn't see it anymore.

"Can I join you?"

Lyra looked up in surprise, but instantly relaxed when she saw who it was, "Hello, Luna. Yes, please."

Luna waiting for Lyra to scoot over and took a seat next to her older sister. She began to stroke Lyra's hair when she leaned her head on her shoulder, "Alright?"

"Mmhm," Lyra nodded against Luna's shoulder, "I was talking to a snake and looking at the stars. They're exceptionally bright tonight."

"They are," Luna looked up at the sky, her eyes glowing in the moonlight, "What did the snake say?"

"It was lost," Lyra scrunched up her nose, "I told it the way back to the forest. I think it was a boy snake."

"I see," Luna mumbled.

"Were you sleep walking again?" Lyra asked, noticing that Luna was wearing her shoes. She always wore them to bed.

"Yes," Luna nodded, "I woke up in the kitchen standing in front of the sink."

Lyra giggled, "Daddy said that the Hogwarts castle is really big. You might get lost."

"Maybe I'll draw a map," Luna decided. She stood up and offered her hand, "Bed."

Lyra accepted and followed Luna into the house, shutting the door quietly behind her. The two sister's crept up the stairs silently and parted ways when they reached their separate rooms.

She flicked on the light and began to change into her nightgown. Her room was exactly like Luna's except she had a pale pink carpet instead of a blue one and when she turned off the light, her ceiling was enchanted to shine stars down upon the room as she slept.

She fell to her knees near her new trunk and opened it. She pulled out the box where her wand was contained and placed it on the floor beside her before she closed it. She skipped over to her bed with her wand clutched in her hands.

She opened the box and her wand rolled out and fell onto her fluffy comforter. She placed the box aside knowing that she wouldn't need it again and picked up her wand. Immediately, the warm feeling that had spread over her body at Ollivander's encased her again. The wand still had the vine wrapped around it.

"I'm a witch," Lyra mumbled to herself as she placed it on her bedside table, "And I'm going to be attending Hogwarts."


	2. Chapter 2

Luna swung her legs back and forth, a smile full of glee on her face as Lyra continued to push the trolley that held her trunk, her pet bunny, and currently her little sister.

The Lovegood family had gotten up at the crack of dawn to prepare things and make sure Lyra had everything checked off of her school supply list as well as the necessary things that she would need to care for Helia.

"Off now, Luna," Xeno told her, when they approached one of the platforms, "We've reached the entrance to the platform and we don't want you injured while we get on."

"Okay," Luna obediently jumped off the trolley and bounced over to stand next to her father.

"How _do_ we get on?" Lyra asked, rubbing her sweaty palms on her sundress. This one was mint green and had yellow butterflies all over it. This time, she hadn't given it a second thought when she was dressing herself and wrapped around the waistline of her dress was a sky blue belt with pink polka dots on it.

"See there?" Xeno pointed to the brick wall that stood between the platforms marked nine and ten, "It's right through that wall. Only witches and wizards can get through. It's best if you run straight for it. We can all go together, hmm?"

Lyra nodded eagerly and all three Lovegoods grasped onto the handle of the trolley.

"On the count of three, daddy?" Luna asked, peering up at him.

"On the count of three," Xeno agreed, nodding, "Ready? One…two…three!"

They began to run towards the wall and at one point, Lyra closed her eyes. It was only when her father gently pulled the trolley to a stop that she allowed her eyes to flutter open. She gasped at what she saw.

Steam was rising around a large scarlet train that had the words ' _Hogwarts Express_ ' painted across the top in sparkling gold letters. The purely white steam was curling into the bright sky, a whistle blowing occasionally, alerting everyone to the time. More people than Lyra could count were clustered around it, ready to board and have the train take them to a place full of wonder and magic for an entire year and more to come.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" Xeno asked, chuckling at his daughter's awed expressions.

"Pretty," Luna breathed, her eyes wide.

"Come here, sweetheart," Xeno pulled Lyra into his arms and hugged her tightly; "I'm going to miss you very much."

"I'm going to miss you too, daddy," Lyra said into her father's chest, "I promise to write."

"Lyra," he pulled away from the hug and peered into her wide eyes, looking uncharacteristically serious, "No matter what House you are placed in. Whether it be Slytherin or Hufflepuff…I will _always_ be proud of you because I know that you will do your very best and I love you very much. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Lyra smiled when her father kissed her cheek, "I understand."

"Good girl," Xeno ran his fingers through Lyra's blonde hair, "Say goodbye to Luna."

"Don't go," Luna whispered, hugging her sister as tight as she could, "Please, don't go."

"I think I have to go," Lyra mumbled into Luna's shoulder, "And you do too. Next year."

"You'll write?" Luna asked, finally pulling away from the hug to reveal glassy eyes. She sniffled, "As often as you can?"

"As often as I can," Lyra promised, "And you have to write too. Especially if you find a Crumple-Horned Snorlack. Okay?"

"Okay," Luna nodded and jumped a bit when a loud whistle blew.

"I have to go," Lyra looked towards her father for conformation and he gave a curt nod. She smiled one last time, "Don't forget that I'll be home for the holidays. Bye-bye."

"Wait," Luna called. She rushed up to her sister her was already a few feet away and took out her radish earrings, "For you. For good luck. Daddy placed a protection charm on them to help ward off Wrackspurts."

"Did he?" Lyra looked surprised as she put on the earrings, "That will help a lot when I'm in classes. Thank you, Luna. I'll wear them every day."

"Okay," Luna hugged her sister once more.

Lyra kissed Luna's cheeks before she skipped off towards the train, her bare feet lightly slapping against the concrete.

She climbed the steps to board the train and waved to her father and sister out of a spare window as the train began to pull away. It wasn't until she couldn't see her family anymore that she began to skip down the corridors, offering copies of _The Quibbler_ and looking for a place to sit.

"Hey!"

Lyra turned her head to see a girl staring at her oddly. She judged that the girl was a first year like her when she saw her lack of school robes, "Hello."

"I've see you skip down here three times," the girl said, ignoring Lyra's greeting. She pushed the compartment door open a little more and narrowed her dark eyes, "What are you playing at? Are you trying to eavesdrop?"

Lyra smiled at her, clasping her hands behind her back, "I'm simply looking for a place to sit. Everywhere else seems to be occupied."

"You can sit here," a girl called from inside the compartment, "It's just me, her, and-

"No," another voice said harshly. It was male's voice this time, "Look at her ridiculous attire. She's obviously a Lovegood. Father's told me all about them. They're blood traitors!"

"Doesn't your father write some sort of magazine?" the girl who had originally been speaking to her arched a dark brown eyebrow.

"He's the editor of _The Quibbler_ ," Lyra smiled and nodded, quite proud of her father, "Would you like a copy?"

The girl who Lyra noticed almost resembled a pug, cackled loudly, "Of course not! Everyone knows that it's all rubbish! Sorry, this compartment is full."

"Pansy," the girl who had told her to sit, scoffed and pushed her way out of the compartment, looking irritated and exhausted, "Stop it. Don't be so cruel. She's done nothing wrong."

"Sit down, Tracey," the boy who had been in the compartment stood up, "You're making quite a scene. Father won't be happy about this. He'll write to your parents and how will they react when they find out you were interacting with the Lovegoods? Everyone knows they're blood-traitors. Almost as much as the Weasley's!"

"Daddy says they are quite nice," Lyra smiled at the boy, "I've never met them, though. Do you think they like pudding?"

"What's going on down here?" a Slytherin Prefect came down the alleyway, looking at all of them curiously. His eyes fell upon Luna and Tracey, "You two need to find a compartment before I give you detention. It wouldn't be wise considering term hasn't even started yet!"

"Yes," Tracey glared at Draco and grabbed Luna's hand, "That's just what we were doing."

"You'll regret this, Davis," Draco called after her, rage clear on his face.

* * *

The two first years continued to walk in silence until Tracey stopped at a compartment and peered into the window, "Here's an empty one."

Lyra fixed her dress as she sat down across from Tracey, gently crossing her ankles, "You are very kind."

"Thanks," Tracey blinked her brown eyes, looking a little stressed, "My mum's a Muggle. She always taught me not to judge people based on their blood-status. Pansy is always like that, but she really can be nice. Draco as well. Sometimes, it just gets a little hard to tolerate."

"That's alright," Lyra told her simply.

Tracey stuck out a hand, "My name is Tracey Davis."

"Lyra Lovegood," she shook her hand, "It's very nice to meet you."

"You as well," Tracey returned the smile, "Do you know what House you'll be in?"

Lyra shook her head, sending blonde curls flying, "No. Do you?"

"Slytherin," the girl said immediately, "Most of my family has been in that House. That's how I know Draco. We all come from old families and they're all connected somehow. I've grown up with the lot of them."

"How lovely," Lyra told her, swinging her legs back and forth, "That House does have quite the reputation, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Tracey looked sad for a moment, "But…I really don't think it's that bad. I mean – all the Houses have to have their bad and their good qualities. Right?"

"Yes," Lyra opened a copy of her magazine, "I suppose they do."

"Er…" Tracey scratched the back of her head as the two sat in silence, "It was really nice talking to you, but I really should get back and make amends with Pansy and Draco. My life at school will be horrible if I cross them. You know, with all of our families being so close. Do you understand?"

Lyra stared at her a moment, "You don't want people to think we're friends? That's quite alright, Tracey. I'm not upset."

Tracey gaped at her honesty, "Lyra…"

"Look," Lyra gasped suddenly and placed aside her magazine. She bent down and picked up something before rising to a sitting position and smiling at Tracey, "It's a toad. Isn't he cute?"

"I guess," Tracey made a face and stood up. She still looked really uncomfortable, "I'll see you around, Lyra. Maybe you'll be placed in Slytherin."

Lyra continued to smile at the small animal and nodded her head, "Goodbye, Tracey. I hope your friends aren't too upset."

Without saying anything, Tracey left and shut the compartment door behind her, leaving Lyra alone.

"Who do you belong too?" Lyra asked, blinking her wide eyes curiously, "Are you lost?"

 _"Ribbit."_

"That's alright," Lyra stood, clutching the frog in both hands so that he couldn't escape, "I'm sure your owner is close. Oh, yes. I bet they miss you."

The frog blinked it beady eyes as Lyra skipped from compartment to compartment.

"Excuse me?" Lyra pushed open the last compartment on the train and six pairs of eyes were fixed on her, "Have any of you lost a toad? I found him in my compartment. He does look rather sad."

"No," a red-headed boy with freckles decorating his face shook his head, "We haven't."

"But I know someone who has," a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth jumped up from her seat, "I can take him to Neville. He's been looking all over for it," she took the toad from Lyra's hands and gave Ron a look, "By the way…you have a bit of dirt on your nose. Did you know?"

With that said, the girl left to go to another part of the train, leaving Lyra with the two boys who were staring oddly at her.

"Whatever House I'm in," the redhead mumbled, "I hope _she's_ not in it."

"Where are your shoes?" the boy with unruly black hair and glasses asked, "Have you lost them?"

Lyra tilted her head to the side curiously, "Shoes? They're prisons for your feet."

"Oh," the boy suddenly looked perplexed and made eye contact with the redhead sitting across from him, "I see."

"You're having a troubled thought," Lyra's faint eyebrows knitted together.

Before the boy could respond, the other looked up, eyeing her peculiarly with his blue eyes, "Do I know you from somewhere? What's your name again?"

"I'm Lyra," she smiled, "Lyra Lovegood."

"Ohhhh," recognition dawned on his face and he nodded, "Your father is friends with mine. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

Lyra's eyes lit up and she bounced a little on her heals, "A Weasley? It's very nice to meet you. Daddy is rather fond of your family."

"Um," the boy with the glasses cleared his throat, "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Lyra's eyes immediately flicked up to his forehead and she tilted her head to the side, "So you are. Well, it was very nice meeting you both."

"Um, wait," Harry called after her, "Would you like to sit?"

Lyra nodded and took a seat next to him, "That would be quite lovely. Thank you."

"What's with the sleeves?" Ron gestured to the long white fingerless gloves that Lyra wore.

Lyra looked at them herself, "It is rather chilly out. I'm trying to keep warm, you see? My sister was recently ill because of the Wrackspurts-

"The what!?" Ron blurted before he could stop himself.

"A Wrackspurt. They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy, I thought I felt one zooming around in here," Lyra said seriously, her eyes wide.

"Right…" Ron drawled out, making brief eye contact with Harry before he moved his gaze to the window.

Harry looked at the girl curiously. Although she did seem a bit off to him…he knew what it was like to be labeled a _'freak'_ and have people treat you weirdly.

"Would you like a chocolate frog?" he offered kindly, holding the sweet out to her, "They're really good."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," Lyra smiled and accepted the sweet, "You are very kind."

Harry returned the smile, "So, Ron was just telling me about his family and I was telling him about mine. What's yours like?"

But before Lyra could answer Harry's question, the compartment door slid open once more.

There were three boys, two appearing as though they were much too thickset for their short height, but the third, a pale boy with blonde hair, a sharp face, and cold grey eyes, Lyra instantly recognized, "Hello, again. Is Tracey doing alright? She did seem a bit concerned when she left to go find you."

Draco looked her up and down, clearly disgusted. He sneered at her before turning his eyes to Harry, "Is it true then? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"It would have to be," Lyra spoke up, glancing briefly out the window. Her eyes held that dreamy look once more as if she was in her own little world, "You already know who I am…and it couldn't be him," she smiled and gestured to Ron. Her tone held complete innocence, "So, who else could it be?"

Ron covered his mouth, failing to hold in a snicker.

Draco immediately rounded on him, his eyes full of loathing, "Think that's funny, do you? I don't need _her_ telling me who you are. My father works with yours at the Ministry. Of course – father is much higher up. He's told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, second-hand supplies, and more children than they can afford."

Ron's face and ears flamed a brilliant crimson and Lyra patted his knee in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

"This is Crabbe," Draco said, turning back to Harry. He gestured to the boy on his left and then to the one on his right, "And this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry stared at him, unsure how to respond.

"You'll soon find out some Wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," Draco continued, his eyes flicking towards Ron and then to Lyra, "I can help you there."

He held out a hand to Harry who in turn arched a single eyebrow. He shook his head, "No thank you. I think I can find out the wrong sort for myself."

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Malfoy warned, glaring at him, "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasley's and the Lovegood's, and it'll rub off on you."

"You know what!?" Ron leapt to his feet, about to defend Harry when the pumpkin-sized boy known as Goyle let out a keen shout.

Scabbers had bit into Goyle's finger and it sounded as though it was quite painful. It took a good bit of effort of Goyle flapping his pudgy arms around before Scabbers finally fell to the floor, allowing all three boys to make a hasty getaway.

"Your rat is very protective of you," Luna muttered, picking up the small rodent from his place on the floor.

"No," Ron snorted, chucking, "I think he was just mad that those gits woke him from his sleep."

"We should probably change," Harry muttered, pulling his robes over his head. He scrunched up his nose and fixed his glasses that had gone askew, "I think we'll be there soon."

"Yeah?" Ron questioned, pulling his own robes over his head.

"I think I'll go change in the loo," Lyra decided, plopping Scabbers back into Ron's lap, "Please excuse me."

"We'll wait for you before getting off of the train," Harry called after her.

"We'll what?" Ron whispered as soon as the compartment door shut behind her, "Are you serious? She's completely mad."

"I don't think she is," Harry shook his head in disagreement, "A bit different, but not at all mad."

Lyra returned a few moments later, her dress and her belt folded over her arms, "They would've shown through my robes," she explained, keeping them in a bundle on her lap.

"You can't even tell you're not wearing any shoes," Harry told her, a smile on his face, "I bet you're happy about that."

"Very," Lyra wiggled her toes, "I don't really care for them much."

"We've noticed," Ron mumbled, wincing when Harry kicked him gently. His eyes widened a bit when he looked Lyra over, "Oh, and Lyra? You probably want to take off your gloves now. My brothers said that if you violate the uniform…you could get in a lot of trouble."

Lyra smiled at him as the train began to slow down, "Don't worry. I think I'll be alright."

* * *

"Excuse me? Miss?"

Lyra turned her head and smiled. A boy with bright blue eyes and ginger hair was staring at her worriedly, "Hello. You must be a Weasley."

He blinked at her, his eyes narrowing skeptically, "How did you know?"

"I met your younger brother," Lyra told him, "Ron Weasley. He told me and Harry Potter all about his family. You're George Weasley aren't you?"

"I…" George blinked. Nobody had ever been able to tell them apart, "Um, yes. George Weasley. Ah, who are you?"

"Lyra Lovegood," she answered happily, "Oh, you're going to ask me a question, aren't you? What is it?"

George mouthed wordlessly at her. What was with this girl?

"Hey," a boy, who looked similar to George, jogged up to his side and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "Alright? Lee's waiting in the carriages."

"Yeah," George nodded; finally taking his eyes off of Lyra, "I was just…" he shook his head and turned back to her, "Are you lost?"

"No," Lyra shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing, "I'm supposed to be taking the carriages."

Fred arched a single eyebrow, "Aren't you a first year?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded, "I promised my sister I wouldn't take the boats. You see, I don't wear shoes and she's quite worried that the water sprites will try and bite off my toes. So, the headmaster said I could take the carriages if I wished. That was very kind, don't you think?"

Fred and George stared at the girl as if she had two heads. Her large dreamy eyes remained unblinking and her soft smile stayed upon her soft face.

"Are those radishes?" Fred pointed to the earrings dangling from her ears.

"Yes," Lyra nodded, "They ward off the Wrackspurts."

"Oh," George's eyes darted around nervously, "Well, um…we can show you to the carriages if you want."

Lyra bobbed her head up and down, "That'd be lovely, George and Fred Weasley."

Ignoring the use of their last name, the twins beckoned for her to follow them.

Lyra's eyes widened slightly when they reached the carriages. She had heard stories from Ron on the train that the carriages pulled themselves, but that was clearly not the case. Some sort of winged horse with a skeletal body, face with reptilian features, and wide, leathery wings that resembled a bat's were stationed at each carriage.

She gently petted one on the head when no one was looking, "You're a cute little thing, hmm?"

"Did you say something?" Fred asked, turning to look at her.

"No," Lyra shook her head and accepted George's hand when he held it out to her, "Thank you."

"You really don't wear shoes," George mumbled, mostly to himself.

She shook her head again, "They're prisons for your feet."

"What did you say your name was again?" Lee asked, looking her up and down.

"Lyra Lovegood," she said, reopening her magazine, "Do you mind if I read for a bit?"

"Oh," Lee Jordan looked shocked for a moment, his eyes widening, "Lovegood, eh? Um, go for it. Read away."

"Smooth," George and Fred sniggered.

Although, she appeared to be reading, Lyra couldn't help but glance up occasionally and take in the beautiful scenery.

"You two go ahead," George nodded his head to his brother and Lee once the carriages had halted, "I'm going to take her to Minnie before she gets in trouble."

Fred eyed his other half oddly, but agreed nonetheless.

"Come on, Lyra," George mumbled.

"You're very kind, George Weasley," Lyra skipped beside him, "I've met quite a few kind people today."

"Is that so?" George asked.

"Mhmm," Lyra hummed.

The two fell into comfortable silence after that.

George was constantly taking peeks at Lyra. He had never really shown an interest in girls before – unlike his brother Fred who almost everyone knew fancied Angelina Johnson. But he did have to admit that for a brief moment, he had thought she was off her rocker.

But taking a closer look at her…he noticed her eyes although looking somewhat vacant and spacey at times – were bright and vibrant with life and wonder. The silver color sparkled in the moonlight. She skipped happily beside him as if she didn't have a single care in the world and her long blonde pin-curls followed suit, but not once did a curl fall out of place. She was cute, he supposed.

"You're having a deep thought."

The sound of Lyra's voice snapped him back into reality and he felt a flush creep up his neck. He had been staring, "I was just thinking about the – oh, we're here," he cut himself off and opened the door, "I have to go to the Great Hall, but if you go through there…you'll find the other firsties."

"Thank you," Lyra smiled warmly.

"You're welcome," George gave a curt nod, "See you around."

The door that George had been referring too, led her to the antechamber where the other first years were waiting anxiously just as a woman dressed in navy blue robes with her black hair pulled into a tight bun that rested under a witch's hat, started giving a speech.

Lyra smiled widely, instantly recognizing the stern woman as Professor McGonagall who had taken her to Diagon Alleey only one month prior.

As Professor McGonagall spoke about the dynamics of the Sorting Ceremony, she told them all about how their new house would be like their family, "Your triumphs will earn you points and any rule breaking will make you lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."

A rather nervous and sweaty-looking boy chose that moment to find his missing toad who had perched itself at the head of McGonagall's feet and Lyra recognized the toad as the one she had found on the train. The strict Professor glared at him disapprovingly and Neville quickly muttered an apology before immersing himself back into the crowd of first years.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily," Professor McGonagall stated, disappearing through a large pair of doors with a slam.

Lyra watched the first years chat before the girl who she had seen earlier with the busy hair, approached her with the boy and his toad in tow. She smiled, "Hello."

"Hi," the girl smiled at her, "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom."

"Hullo," Neville greeted, waving shyly, "Hermione told me that you found Trevor on the train earlier and I wanted to give you a proper thank you. So…thanks!"

"You're welcome," Lyra reached out a hand and gently ran a finger over Trevor, "He really is a cute little thing."

"Thanks," Neveille beamed, "My gran got him for me since I made it into Hogwarts. She thought I was a Squib."

"Nobody in my family's magic at all," Hermione began, "It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough– I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"Lyra Lovegood," she held out a hand, "It's nice to meet you. I hope we'll be great friends. I've never had friends before."

Hermione gaped at her, ignoring the hand she held out, "You want to be friends? With _me_?"

"Of course," Luna told her, just as McGonagall came back, "I think you're lovely."

"Now, form a line, and follow me," was all Professor McGonagall said as she led them through the doors.

Hermione instead of falling into a line, decided to walk beside Lyra. Neville had gone off to chase Trevor again.

The pair left the antechamber to go through the great magnificent oak doors and into the Great Hall. Lyra couldn't help but gasp in awe. There were more candles than she could count dangling high up in the air without suspension, illuminating the four long tables and the Head Table at the front. She allowed her bright eyes to drift upwards for a moment and smiled at the ghosts that floated above. She looked past them at the ceiling, which looked a lot more like the night sky, "I do rather like the stars. They look like diamonds."

"It's not real, the ceiling," Hermione explained to her, "It's bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Lyra simply smiled at her and quickly tucked her magazine into her robes as she came to a halt in front of the person who had stopped in front of her.

She watched in interest as Professor McGonagall placed a short stool a few feet in front of the crowd of first years and atop that, rested a raggedy hat. Lyra briefly wondered why Ron was telling Harry that the Sorting might be painful, but she didn't have much time to ponder the thought because just then, the hat opened its wide mouth and began to sing:

 _"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Lyra joined the other students and staff members in the loud applause, which quickly died down as McGonagall called up the first student from a long list in her hands.

Seamlessly, they all took turns under the Sorting Hat. Hannah Abbot was sorted into Hufflepuff as well as Susan Bones. Terry Boot was sorted into Ravenclaw and Lyra wasn't the slightest bit surprised when Tracey Davis was later sorted into Slytherin. Tracey actually seemed relieved when she went to join her fellow snakes.

Professor McGonagall went through the names rather quickly, as the hat took no time in going through each person's mind.

"Granger, Hermione."

She heard Hermione gasp softly beside her and Lyra reached out to touch her arm gingerly as she made her way to the Sorting Hat. After almost five minutes of intense silence, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Lyra clapped loudly and watched as Hermione scampered over to the cheering table.

"Weasley, Ronald."

Ron looked positively green as he made his way up the steps leading to the hat, but not even a second after the hat was plopped over his head, he was placed in Gryffindor as well.

"Lovegood, Lyra."

Lyra skipped up to the stool, not paying attention to the shocked whispers when her robes rose up to reveal bare feet. She beamed at the wink and warm smile Professor McGonagall gave her and she turned her head briefly towards the Head Table. For some reason, the Professor's occupying it looked worried.

" _Ah_ ," the Hat said, causing Lyra to look up in surprise, " _Another Lovegood, eh? What a tricky little mind you have_."

" _Tricky_?" Lyra thought back, " _Do you see any_ _Wrackspurts_?"

The hat laughed, " _Yes, a Lovegood indeed. But where shall I place you_?"

Lyra waited patiently. She wasn't really sure how to respond to that.

" _A precise clever girl you are,"_ the Hat continued _, "Very creative and an extraordinary imagination. Enough to warrant the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw. Ah, but what's this? My, my you have very deep secrets – dark even and you can keep them like those of Slytherin, but perhaps you do not have the cunning of one? Slytherin's will do anything to get their way and I do not see that in you. Hufflepuff maybe_? _They value loyalty and it would be good for you to be around those who do not judge_."

Lyra began to swing her legs back and forth.

" _I see so many Slytherin traits in you_ ," the hat said, " _But I fear they will not accept your uniqueness. Gryffindor, perhaps_? _Very protective of their own and very accepting of those who are different. Yes. Yes. I can see that you are already well-acquainted with the Head of House. Although, Hufflepuff's element is Earth…seems as though we need to find a middle ground for you, hm? I think I have figured out the perfect place for you, Lyra Lovegood."_

Lyra perked up, eager to hear the hat's placement.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Loud cheers rang throughout the air and took the hat off her head. Gryffindor. She was a lion. She was grinning by the time she had made it to the Gryffindor table where people were shaking her hand at patting her shoulder as she took a seat between Hermione and George.

"Potter, Harry."

A hush immediately made its way throughout the Great Hall and everything was silent as Harry nervously made his way up to the stool. His nervousness seemed to increase when the whispers started:

 _"Potter? As in Harry Potter?"_

 _"Harry Potter's come to Hogwarts!?"_

 _" The Harry Potter?"_

Harry's experience with the Hat seemed to take a while, but it was only when the Hat exclaimed that he was in Gryffindor, did all tension seem to leave Harry's body. He looked extremely relieved for some reason.

Fred and George did a little victory dance, shouting, "Potter! We got Potter, we got Potter!"

As soon as the last student was placed into Ravenclaw, Professor Dumbledore tapped his glass and rose to his feet. A wide smile graced his old face and he opened his arms wide, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Did you know that you're officially a hatstall?" Hermione asked, serving herself a spoonful of peas, "Because you took longer than five minutes to get Sorted. A few people actually thought the hat was broken."

"Really?" Lyra asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded and served herself a baked potato, "But I'm really glad that we're in the same House."

"Me too," Lyra smiled, filling her goblet with pumpkin juice.

As she sipped from her goblet, Lyra took this time to observe what was going on around her. Harry was immersed in a conversation with one of Ron's brothers who she knew to be Percy, Ron was grabbing all sorts of food and piling his plate high, and Hermione was now questioning a ghost who was apparently "nearly-headless."

"Who's that talking to Professor Quirrell?" she heard Harry ask Percy.

She followed his gaze to the Head Table where two Professors were quietly conversing with one another. One of them was wearing purple robes and an old purple turban that was wrapped meticulously around his head. Lyra noticed that he seemed extremely fidgety and awkward. The Professor sitting next to him however was completely shroud in black, black hair, black eyes, and his skin by contrast was pale, almost sickly white.

"That's Professor Snape," Percy told him, "Head of Slytherin House. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows it's the Dark Arts he fancies. He's been after Quirrell's job for years."

"Are you glad to be in Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, tugging on Lyra's robes.

"I think so," Lyra pondered, "I would have been happy in any House, really."

"Are you going to be sad if your sister isn't Sorted into Gryffindor?"

Lyra nodded, "Yes. A bit. We're very close."

After dessert was served and everyone was satisfyingly full, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. The hall fell silent and Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you: First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well," Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors," Dumbledore continued, "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Lyra tilted her head to the side curiously, but the thought of whatever Dumbledore had been referring to was pushed to the back of her mind, when Dumbledore said something about a school song and everyone began to sing.

To her amusement, Fred and George were the last to finish and she giggled quietly to herself.

* * *

That night, after they had climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, Lyra laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Her dorm mates were nice. Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Hermione Granger.

Lavender and Parvati were a bit gossipy and had looked at her rather strangely, but Lyra didn't mind giving them a chance and she thought Hermione was absolutely lovely.

Lyra pursed her lips. Gryffindor. She was in Gryffindor and didn't really understand why. From what the hat had said…they valued bravery and she didn't consider herself to be brave at all. Then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that the hat said Gryffindor's were known to be protective and accepting.

It did ease her thoughts a little that the Head of House was Professor McGonagall.

She sighed heavily and shook her head before she climbed under the thick and fluffy comforter. Helia was already asleep, resting on the pillow beside her. She was undisturbed by Lyra's movement.

"At least we're here together, hm?" Lyra whispered, kissing Helia's head.

She sighed once more and closed her eyes, willing sleep to take over. Tomorrow they would be getting their timetables as classes would be starting. It was going to be a very very long day.

* * *

 **It took me forever to decide what House to put Lyra in. I seriously debated putting her in Slytherin or Ravenclaw for a long time, but then thinking about the story going further and further – in the long run it would make things a lot more understandable/less complicated if she was in Gryffindor.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this long chapter and please review, my lovelies.**

 **~ FictionChic**


	3. Chapter 3

"Good morning, Lyra," Harry yawned, running his fingers through unkempt hair.

"Good morning, Harry Potter," Lyra smiled, twisting the cap back on her red nail polish, "Did you have nice dreams?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, already used to this question, "You?"

"Very nice," Lyra nodded, "Oh, your friend Ronald Weasley is not with you this morning?"

"I woke up a little later," Harry waved her off, "I stayed up late finishing the homework for Transfiguration."

"I see," Lyra hummed.

Harry pursed his lips, observing the girl who was now drying her toes. Since the term had started, he always saw Lyra sitting by herself in the corner of the Common Room. Even at meals, she seemed to sit alone and she talked to no one. Even Hermione at times seemed too caught up in reading a book or adding another two feet to her essay to have a conversation with Lyra. No doubt it was because of Lyra's strange beliefs of everything that was written in _The Quibbler_ – which she often tried to hand out, but students only laughed in her face. He had even heard rumors that people were starting to call her names.

"You're eyes have glazed over," Lyra said, placing her nail polish on a nearby table, "You're having a deep thought."

"Would you like to sit with Ron and me for breakfast?" Harry asked, holding out his hand.

Lyra stared, her silver eyes growing even wider, "Me?"

Harry nodded, "Of course. How about it? Oh, and I'd like a copy of _The Quibbler_ , please. There are some left….aren't there?"

Lyra blinked owlishly, "Really?"

"Mmhm," he laughed, "Come on. If we don't get down there soon, Ron will eat everything."

Lyra chuckled herself and hesitantly accepted Harry's hand, "Thank you."

Harry smiled at her as they climbed through the portrait, their fingers still intertwined, "You're welcome, Lyra. What are friends for?"

"Friends?" Lyra looked perplexed for a moment, "You know, Harry Potter…I've never had friends before coming here."

"Me neither," Harry admitted quietly, "I guess that's something we have in common, hm?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded, "I suppose it is."

"What about your sister?" Harry asked curiously, "Does she have a lot of friends?"

Lyra shook her head, "No, I don't believe so. Really, it was just her and I. She's my best friend."

"Is she a lot like you?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure," Lyra answered after thinking a bit, "I think so. A lot of people have mistaken us for twins in the past."

Harry smiled at her, "Well, then. I guess Luna and I will be great friends as well when she comes next year. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Lyra beamed at him, "I think she's looking forward to meeting you as well, Harry Potter."

* * *

Pulling her cloak around her thin frame tighter, Lyra knocked on the door that led to the Potions room.

"Enter."

She pushed open the door and closed it behind her. Skipping over to where Snape's desk was located, she smiled, "Good morning, Professor Snape. Madame Pomfrey said you would like to see me after breakfast?"

"It seems, Ms. Lovegood," Snape drawled out, thrusting a phial in the direction where Lyra stood, "That we will be spending quite a bit of time together. Drink."

"Yes, sir," Lyra accepted the vial and downed it in one gulp. It tasted woody and faintly of something fruity. She handed him the empty vial, "Here you are."

He waved it away with his wand and handed her another one, "Madame Pomfrey insists that you take two doses as taking only one doesn't seem to be making as much progress as she had hoped."

Lyra gave a small smile, "Your eyes look like tunnels. Haunting almost, but very pretty."

"If you are finished," Snape held his hand out for the other vial, ignoring her comment, "I suggest making your way to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey would like to do a brief checkup."

"I see," Lyra nodded, "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"Your gratitude is neither needed nor wanted," he told her coldly, returning to his desk to resume the book he was reading, "Be on your way, Ms. Lovegood."

"Yes, sir," Lyra rocked back and forth on her feet, "Have a nice day. I'll see you in class this afternoon."

Without waiting for a response, she skipped her way out of the dungeons. The coldness not bothering her in the slightest.

The first few days had Hogwarts had been absolutely wonderful. During their first Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall had turned her desk into a pig and proceeded to teach them how to turn matchsticks into needles. Besides her, Hermione had been the only one to accomplish the task and many people had been astonished at the appearance of her wand. Apparently, not all of them grew vines.

Then, they were to go out to the greenhouses three times a week with Professor Sprout to learn all about all sorts of fungi and strange plants for Herbology class.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been quite a show. Lyra found that she actually felt bad for the Professor who wore garlic around his neck. He stuttered all throughout the lesson and when someone had asked about him defeating a zombie, Professor Quirrell turned white and squeaked out something about the weather.

Lyra had to agree with most of her House, that History of Magic was the worst class of them all. Professor Binns was a ghost and kept calling Hermione "Grant" when her last name was in fact "Granger." He then had them all copy notes from the blackboard, but kept getting Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Lyra would have to remember to constantly check her marks for that class.

Professor Flitwick taught charms. He was part Goblin and had fallen off of the stack of books that he used to reach his desk when he had read Harry's name from the roster.

Then every Wednesday at midnight, they would go up to the Astronomy tower with Professor Sinistra to learn about stars and the names of constellations and planets.

Finally coming upon her destination, Lyra pushed on one of the doors, which seemed to open automatically to her touch. She walked inside and shut the door behind her. The room was pure white except for the small bedside tables that sat beside each bed. The room was rather large and actually looked like a hospital, "Madame Pomfrey?"

There was a small back office from which a woman emerged. She had a kind face and her grey hair was pulled into a loose bun, "Hello, love. Did Professor Snape give you your potions?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra nodded.

"Oh good," Madame Pomfrey smiled, "Up on the bed now, if you please? Thank you, deary."

"You're welcome," Lyra said quietly.

"Still no shoes, I see," the Matron tsked as she pressed her hand to Lyra's chest. She hummed before she brought out her wand, "How are you feeling, today?"

"I'm alright," Lyra told her, watching as Madame Pomfrey's wandtip began to glow a faint blue, "A bit of a migraine, but I think it's the Wrackspurts. My earrings are supposed to protect them from going into my ears and I think that's made them rather angry."

"Is that so?" Madame Pomfrey pressed a hand firmly against Lyra's forehead, "No fever, but you're a bit clammy. Any other symptoms?"

"No," Lyra shook her head.

"I see," Madame Pomfrey gestured for her to get off the bed, "You're looking peaky. Have you been eating?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded this time, "I had two helpings of pudding yesterday. Treacle tart with syrup. It was really quite nice and this morning I had toast, eggs, a scone, and some porridge."

"Good, good," Madame Pomfrey seemed satisfied with that answer and pursed her lips, "Everything else seems to be alright. I almost want to have you stay, but I know it wouldn't be wise to have you miss classes so early into the term. You will come back if your migraine worsens or if anything else occurs?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra promised.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips once more, narrowing her eyes in thought, "I would like you to go see Severus after dinner tonight."

"Another potion?" Lyra asked.

"Yes," the Matron still looked slightly troubled, "Before bed. I'll let him know and he'll be expecting you, Ms. Lovegood and do not forget to see him the next morning as well."

"Okay," Lyra smiled, taking that as her cue to leave, "Goodbye, Madame Pomfrey."

"Goodbye, deary," Madame Pomfrey returned the smile as the girl began to skip away, "Take care of yourself."

Once the door had shut behind Lyra, Madame Pomfrey's smile fell. She was quite worried about the eldest Lovegood sister and she hoped – prayed really that things would get better for her.

* * *

"You really think that I'm a good singer?" The Fat Lady sniffled, dabbing at her eyes that were heavily caked with makeup.

"Of course," Lyra told her gently, patting her frame, "Very lovely."

"But I can't break the glass," The Fat Lady burst into tears once more, the glass clutched tightly in her hand.

"Oh, but then what would you have to drink out of?" Lyra tried to reason with her, her dreamy-soft smile still on her face, "And all of that glass in your portrait? You could get hurt."

"I-I suppose you're right," the painting nodded, wiping her eyes once more, "Y-you're such a-a sweetie."

"Why, thank you," Lyra told her, "How nice."

"Would you like to hear me sin-

"What are you doing?"

Turning her head at the sound of someone standing behind her, Lyra wiggled her fingers and glimpsed briefly at the portrait who looked quite upset that someone had interrupted her upcoming encore, "Look. It's George and Fred Weasley."

"Alright?" George asked her.

"Yes," Lyra smiled, "I was talking to The Fat Lady. Have you heard her sing before?"

"No, not that," George shook his head and waved off the question, "It's just…Peeves and some of the students-

-They've been calling you 'Loony Lyra,'" Fred finished.

"It's all in good fun," Lyra reassured him, "But you're sweet to be concerned."

"Right," George drawled out, nodding, "What are you doing here all by yourself, anyway?"

Lyra tilted her head to the side, noticing his and Fred's pockets bulging, "I've interrupted a prank, haven't I? Were you going to throw dungbombs in the corridor? I should leave then, shouldn't I?"

"You most certainly will not," The Fat Lady shouted, placing her hands upon her hips.

"How did you know?" Fred's eyes bulged.

Lyra smiled warmly at them and locked eyes with George, "I was checking on Helia."

"What?"

"To answer your earlier question," Lyra told George, "I got done with an appointment rather early and decided to check on my pet bunny. Her name is Helia."

Now it was Fred's turn to look confused, "You have a pet bunny?"

Lyra nodded, "I rescued her from the Nargles. Although, I still suspect that she was running away from the Wrackspurts. Not to worry, though…my earrings protect me from them. I think that's why I'm doing well in classes, but I guess people think they're a bit strange."

"Oh," Fred looked a bit put off by Lyra's statement, but George however simply nodded his head as though he understood what the first year was talking about.

"I think they're cute," George blurted before he could stop himself. His ears colored a light pink.

"Do you?" Lyra beamed at him, "Perhaps I could make you something to help protect you as well."

"That'd be…nice," George finally said, clearing his throat.

Fred looked between his other half and the first year, perplexed. He had never seen George take interest in a girl before. He moved his gaze to the portrait and saw that she had the same perplexed look on her face.

It looked like his little Georgie had a crush.

"Lovely," Lyra smiled.

"Best be going down to class now, deary," The Fat Lady cleared her throat, her once surprised look morphing into one of care as she glanced at Lyra. It was obvious that she was ignoring the Weasley twins, "It would be a shame for you to be late to your first Potions lesson."

"Yes," Luna blinked a few times, "I suppose it would be. Bye-bye."

"Goodbye, Lyra," the portrait waved and soon resumed her singing much to the distaste of the other paintings.

"Potions?" Fred snorted as the trio began to walk, "Good luck with that."

"Thank you, Fred Weasley," Lyra smiled up at him and adjusted the strap of her bag, "How very kind."

"No, no," George sighed heavily. This girl took everything too literally, "He just meant – the Professor. He's not-

"He's a git," Fred said bluntly, "Everyone knows that Snape hates Gryffindor's. He'll take points just for someone in that House breathing."

"Really?" Lyra tilted her head to the side as she hopped down a couple of steps, "He did seem rather nice when I spoke to him."

"Nice?" George choked on air, "Wow, Lovegood…you really are something."

"Am I?" Lyra seemed to ponder this thought.

"The dungeons, my lady," Fred bowed and gestured towards the long spiral staircase that led into the dungeons.

"Thank you," Lyra patted his shoulder, "Have a nice day."

She seemed to be the last one to enter the Potions classroom and immediately, all eyes turned to her. A few of the Slytherin's snickered and pointed, the word 'Loony' drifting throughout the room.

"Ms. Lovegood," Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, looking up from the roster that was in front of him, "How nice of you to join us."

Lyra raised her faint eyebrows, "Thank you, Professor Snape."

A few people gasped, but Snape remain unfazed, "Take your seat."

"Yes, sir," Lyra glanced around the room briefly and noticed that each House was split onto different sides. Gryffindor's were on the right and Slytherin's on the left.

Skipping over to one of the desks only caused more murmurs to rise from the students.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she smiled at Tracey, waiting for a response.

Tracey's face paled and her eyes darted around the room. Finally, she turned back to her empty cauldron and shrugged, "I really don't care where you sit."

"Goodie," Lyra sat down next to the Slytherin and gingerly placed her bag down, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion making," Snape began after he had checked every name for attendance. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquid that creeps through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads that I usually have to teach. Potter!"

He had spat out the name so suddenly that even some of the Slytherin's jumped. It had been clear to even Lyra that Harry was writing down every single word from Snape's mouth onto a spare piece of parchment for later reference, but to the Potions Master, it just seemed like the boy was not paying attention.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape demanded, his eyes narrowing.

Harry looked extremely troubled as he tried to unsuccessfully wrack his brain for the answer. Briefly, he and Lyra made eye contact and he only looked away when Snape snapped his fingers in his face.

"And where would I find a bezoar?" Snape asked harshly.

"I don't know, sir," Harry whispered.

Snape's lip curled, "You don't' know? Tut, tut, Mr. Potter. Let's try again, hm? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Again, Harry did not know the answer and by now, Hermione's hand was almost connecting with the ceiling as she had stood up from her chair hoping that Snape would call on her.

"Just so you are aware, Potter," Snape spat out his name once more, "If I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood it would make the Draught of Living Death and a bezoar is found inside the stomach of a goat-

"Well, why don't you ask Hermione, then?" Harry finally snapped as it was clear that Snape was picking one him. His emerald eyes were hard and rooted firmly to his Professor's, "It seems a pity not to ask her as she's obviously the only one here who knows the answer."

Lyra was one out of the many Gryffindor's who had smiled at Harry for standing up for himself. Although, Snape wasn't too pleased, and proceeded to take two points from Gryffindor for Harry's cheek.

"Why are you sitting here?" Tracey hissed to her once they had begun brewing their first potion, which was supposed to be a solution to curing boils, "Gryffindor's sit over there."

"You'd like me to leave," Lyra stated more than asked. She didn't seem at all troubled by what Tracey had said, "That's alright. I'll go after the potion is done."

"I didn't," Tracey shook her head, "That's not what I meant."

"That's okay," Lyra smiled as she added powdered snake skins, "I suspect Wrackspurts play a part."

"Wrackspurts?" Tracey turned to Luna now, her face confused, "What's that?"

Lyra's eyebrows knitted together suddenly and she placed down the bat wings that she was about to add.

"What are you doing?" Tracey asked, surprised at the change of demeanor, "You're going to mess it up and we'll get a zero for the day."

"Please, excuse me," Lyra mumbled, picking up her bag.

Everyone began to ignore their potions, clearly more interested in watching Lyra as she left her desk and made her way up to Professor Snape, mumbling something that nobody could hear or understand. For a moment, Snape looked like he was going to yell at her, but instead nodded his head and gestured towards the door.

"I will return momentarily," Snape announced to the class, his robes billowing behind him as he made his way from his desk, "If done correctly, your potions should be simmering on low heat for fifteen minutes. There will be no lollygagging while I am gone and if I find out there has been – which I will – expect to be back on the train to London. Do I make myself clear?"

Nobody said anything.

"In fact," Snape stopped suddenly and raised his wand. With one swipe, every single drop in the cauldrons disappeared, leaving them all empty, "Take out your books and turn to page 139. I want a brief essay written on the cure for boils, instead. I will only accept those that are a foot or more long. No exceptions."

Snape rolled his eyes at the groans coming from some of his students and left the frigid classroom, Lyra keeping close behind him as well as her head down. Once away from the prying eyes of the student's, Snape kept a firm hand on Lyra's arm.

"Walk slowly," he snapped impatiently, steadying Lyra when she stumbled.

Lyra nodded shakily, slowing her strides.

It wasn't until they started climbing the spiraling steps, that Lyra's eyes fluttered close and she began to fall backwards.

"Foolish, child," Snape caught her easily and lowered her to the ground. He placed two fingers to her neck and almost breathed a sigh of relief. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. He shook her gently, trying to rouse her from her unconscious state, "Ms. Lovegood?"

Keeping one arm out to cradle her unconscious form, Snape took out his wand once more and conjured up a stretcher. He easily levitated Lyra onto it and climbed to his, continuing his way up the steps.

"Poppy," Snape shouted as soon as they entered the Hospital Wing.

"Oh my," Poppy gasped, placing her hands to her cheeks, "I should have known. Place her on the bed, Severus. What happened?"

The Potions Master did as he was told, "She came to me during class and I escorted her here. She lost consciousness as we were making our way up one of the stairwells."

Poppy clicked her tongue and nodded, "Yes, yes. Very well, Severus, thank you for bringing her here. I will take care of her."

"I must return to my classroom," Severus inclined his head.

"Of course," the mind-healer nodded, brushing away hair from Lyra's face, "I can handle everything from here."

"I will inform the rest of the Professor's that she will not be attending anymore classes for the rest of the day," Snape told her before taking his leave.

"No more classes indeed," the Matron muttered to herself, placing a cool rag across Lyra's forehead. She managed a small smile and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to Lyra's chest, "I knew I should've kept you here for the day. Rest-up, deary. You're going to need it."

* * *

"Xenophilius Lovegood will not be happy about this, Albus," Snape arched a single eyebrow, watching the older wizard pace his office as he so often did when he was stressed or thinking hard about something.

"That is why I have not written to him," Dumbledore said, stopping to gaze out his window.

"You haven't written?" Snape didn't bother to hide the surprise in his voice.

"My dear, Severus. The girl simply fainted," Dumbledore turned to look at him, "I promised Xenophilius that I would write should an emergency ever occur."

Noticing the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, Snape glared, "I take it that you were referring to _your_ definition of an emergency, Albus?"

"I would never put Ms. Lovegood in danger, Severus," the headmaster said seriously, "You need to trust me. She is safe here and I am doing my best to make sure that she remains in good health. There is no reason to be worried."

"Worried?" Snape sneered, "I have no reason to be concerned for anyone besides those of my own House. Do not put words into my mouth, Albus!"

"My apologies," Dumbledore nodded curtly, "Forgive me for making assumptions. Thank you for bringing her to Poppy. I can always count on you."

"She fainted in my arms," Severus snapped, "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Yes," Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't heard the former Hogwarts student, "She is in very good hands here. Very safe."

Snape slammed one of his hands upon the desk, causing a few items to topple over, "You ask too much of me!"

"In this case?" Dumbledore started, shaking his head, "I must disagree with you. Had Ms. Lovegood been in Transfiguration at the time or Herbology? I would ask the same thing of Pomona and Minerva. It just happens to be you, Severus, who is skilled at brewing the correct potions."

"And when the students start to talk?" Snape asked, his demeanor calming somewhat.

"Then I shall handle it," Dumbledore told him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "From what Poppy has told me, Ms. Lovegood woke from her unconscious state about two hours ago. After a very thorough checkup from Poppy, she was escorted back to Gryffindor Tower by Minerva and is resting as we speak."

"You've left her alone?"

"It seems as though Ms. Lovegood has become quite acquainted with the Grey Lady," Dumbledore smiled, "Per request, the Ravenclaw ghost has offered to peek in on Lyra and will report to me if she notices anything wrong with the girl."

Snape remained silent, his cold eyes locked with Dumbledore's warm ones, "Is that all?"

Dumbledore nodded once and gestured towards the door, "That is all, Severus. You may return to you quarters."

Not needing to be told twice, Severus stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him causing a few of the portraits to cry out and mutter in protest.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and resumed pacing his office, occasionally pausing to massage his temples.

"Really, Albus?" Resting upon his wall with many others, was a clever looking wizard, with black hair, dark eyes, a pointed beard, and thin eyebrows, "All of this trouble is quite unnecessary. I would suggest sending the girl back home. It is my understanding that Harry Potter is a more valuable way to spend your time."

"Ah, Phineas," Dumbledore shook his head at the portrait, "Despite residing in my office, I'm afraid to say that you are not aware of everything. It very well may be that Lyra Lovegood is just as important as Mr. Potter. Everyone here is, you see? They are people."

"But she seems to be causing quite a bit of trouble amongst the Pro-

"Phineas," Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing him, "Help will always be given as Hogwarts to those who are in need of it."


	4. Chapter 4

Lyra's eyes fluttered open slowly and she grimaced, quickly shutting them as she was blinded by light. She tried to sit up, but someone pushed firmly on her shoulder, making her sink back into the pillows.

"I'd take it easy if I were you," a teasing, but familiar voice said.

Her eyes fluttering open once more, she smiled weakly when she saw who it was, "George Weasley."

George returned the smile and pulled the blanket further up Lyra's body, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Lyra answered. Looking around, showed that she was lying on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I'm not really sure what happened," George told her softly, "All I know is that Professor McGonagall said that you were resting on the couch and that we shouldn't disturb you."

"Really?" Lyra blinked, trying to recall what had happened.

"Here," George placed his hand on the small of Lyra's back and adjusted one of the pillows, "Let me help."

"Thank you," she accepted the glass of water that he held out to her and took a small sip, "How long…?"

"A couple of days," he said, after understanding what she wanted to know, "Hermione's been taking care of Helia for you and Harry's been gathering up your schoolwork."

"How sweet," Lyra smiled and took another drink of water.

"If you're feeling up to it," George started, "I can take you down to the Great Hall, "I'm sure you're hungry."

"That'd be quite nice," Lyra nodded, rubbing the rest of the sleep out of her eyes.

"But I'm sure you'd like to get changed and stuff," George gestured to the robes that she had been wearing for two days now.

"Ah, yes," Lyra nodded and accepted the hand that George held out to her, "Thank you."

"Alright?" George asked, steadying her when she swayed dangerously, "Do you want to sit back down?"

Lyra shook her head, "I'm fine now. I suspect-

-It was the Wrackspurts," George finished for her with a gentle chuckle, "Is your brain feeling fuzzy?"

"Not anymore," Lyra told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I can't go up with you," George said once she had ahold of the banister, "There's a spell on all of the girl's staircases, but I'll wait down here."

She nodded at him once, letting him know that she heard what he had said before climbing the rest of the steps that led up to her dorm.

It was empty except for Helia who was snoozing peacefully on one of Lyra's bed pillows. Deciding not to disturb the small creature, Lyra dug through her trunk as quietly as she could and pulled out some clean undergarments as well as a new pair of robes. Satisfied, she skipped her way towards the bathroom, looking forward to a nice warm shower.

She sighed in content, letting the hot water relax her muscles. She yawned again as she washed her hair. She was still a bit sleepy, but she knew she couldn't afford to miss anymore classes. She would take a nap later.

Once she was finished with her shower and her morning routine, Lyra pulled on all pink undergarments as well as a thin pair of leggings that were rolled up above her ankles and a black tank top before she pulled her robes over her head as well as a long pair of black fingerless gloves.

Satisfied with her appearance, Lyra knelt down and kissed the top of Helia's head before she grabbed her schoolbag and made her way back to the Common Room where George was still waiting.

"Feeling better?" George asked.

"Yes," Lyra nodded, "A lot better."

"To the Great Hall we go," George cheered, pushing open the portrait door, "After you, milady."

"Thank you, George Weasley," Lyra smiled warmly at him and patted his head.

"You don't need to use my full name," George said with a warm chuckle, falling instep beside her, "You can just call me George."

"Is that your preference?" Lyra asked, hopping down the last two steps of one of the staircases.

"Actually," an arm wrapped around her shoulders, "He prefers Georgie."

"Shut up, Fred," George rolled his eyes, "I do not."

"Hello, Fred Weasley," Lyra greeted, smiling.

"Hello, Lyra Lovegood," Fred mocked, grinning, "How are you feeling this fine morning?"

"A lot better," she said, "Thank you for asking."

"We were worried," Fred squeezed her shoulder, "George didn't leave your side."

Lyra peered up at George curiously, "Is that so?"

"Well," George scratched the back of his head, "I-

"Thank you for watching over me," Lyra said sincerely.

"Look," George cleared his throat loudly, "We're here."

"Oh, goodie," Lyra grinned and skipped through the door that George held open for her.

There weren't as many people in the Great Hall, Lyra noticed. It must have been later in the day than she thought, but most of the staff was still at the Head Table.

"Lyra!"

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Lyra smiled as they approached her, "Hello there."

"Alright?" Harry asked her worriedly, leading her to the table where only a few Gryffindors were sat.

"Yes," Lyra nodded and sat down next to him, serving herself some French toast, "A lot better."

"What happened?" Ron asked curiously, "We saw you leave Snape's class and you never came back."

Lyra smiled around her fork and took it out of her mouth, "I was feeling a bit under the weather."

"And I can't believe you sat with the Slytherin's," Ron continued as though he hadn't heard her, "Are you mad?"

"Ron," George scolded, "Stop it."

"Leave the girl alone, Ron," Fred took a seat next to his younger brother, "She just woke up and doesn't need you pestering her."

"I was just curious," Ron mumbled, his ears slightly pink as he shoved a scone into his mouth.

"Ms. Lovegood," Poppy stormed up to their table, her hands on her hips, "What on Earth do you think you're doing?"

"Having a spot of breakfast," Lyra told her simply, "I am rather hungry."

Poppy sighed, "Ms. Lovegood what are you doing out of bed? You should have waited for someone to fetch me so that I could come up and assist you."

"Oh," Lyra perked up, "Not to worry. George took very good care of me."

George began to choke on his orange juice and Fred thumped him hard on the back.

"Did he?" the Matron looked surprised and inspected Lyra more closely, "Well, your color does seem to have come back, but I must insist that you stop by to see me later today. Oh, and after breakfast go and see Professor Snape for your… _homework_."

Lyra nodded, understanding fully what Madame Pomfrey was referring to. She needed to take her potions, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good girl," Madame Pomfrey patted her on the head affectionately, "Glad to see you up and about."

"Bye-bye," Lyra waved in farewell as the medi-witch returned to the Head Table.

"Potions homework?" Harry's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to recall the last couple of days, "Weird. I thought I had gotten all of your assignments?"

"Must've missed one, mate," Ron snorted, "Wouldn't be surprised if you tried to get out of there as fast as possible."

"Yeah," Harry nodded and looked up at Lyra, "I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright," Lyra dabbed her mouth daintily with her napkin, "I think I'll go pick it up now. Goodbye, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley, and George."

"Bye Lyra," they all called to her in unison.

"Why does she call everyone by their full names except for you?" Ron pointed his fork at George.

"Because I asked her to only call me by my first name?" George raised his eyebrows, "There's no reason for the formalities. Just ask her."

"So?" Fred sniggered, the mischievous glint in his eyes was obvious to the occupants of the table, "You took care of her while she was unconscious, huh?"

"S-shut up," George whacked Fred lightly on his arm, glaring at Harry and Ron who were roaring with laughter, "I just made sure she wasn't alone for too long. That's all."

"That's all?" Ron teased.

George rolled his eyes and served himself sausage before he began cutting it up, "Grow up, Ron."

Little did they know, that George was only cutting his sausages so precisely to avoid their gazes and to wait for his blush to die down.

* * *

 _A silicon dioxide crystal, Rose Quartz is one of the most common varieties of the Quartz family. It is found in abundance around the world and occurs only in massive form, with no crystal faces, edges or terminations. It is hazy to translucent, and is usually found in the cores of granite pegmatites. Its name is derived from its soft rose color, which ranges from very pale pink to deep reddish-pink and is due to trace amounts of titanium, iron, or manganese in the massive material. It also contains microscopic fiber inclusions of rutile or a borosilicate similar to dumortierite that can occasionally produce a cat's eye or "star" effect when polished into cabochons or spheres. The color of Rose Quartz is very stable and will not fade with heat or direct sunlight._

 _Rose Quartz is also called Pink Quartz or Hyaline Quartz, from the Greek hyalos, meaning "glass," and was referred to in antiquity as a Bohemian or Silesian Ruby. It was thought for years Rose Quartz, in rare cases, also formed in clusters of small prismatic crystals that were labeled as Crystalline Rose Quartz. However, mineralogists in the 1990's discovered distinct differences between common Rose Quartz and the rare crystalline specimens, and proposed the massive form still be denoted as Rose Quartz, while the crystal variety should be referred to as Pink Quartz. It is a confusion that is slowly being resolved._

"Ooh, what are you reading?"

"Hello, Hermione Granger," Lyra looked up from the tattered book, "I'm reading about crystals. Rose Quartz, actually. It's very lovely."

"Rose Quartz," Hermione mused, peering at the text, "Hmm. So, you really like it?"

"Yes," Lyra's eyes sparkled, "I like Rose Quartz very much."

"How are you feeling?" Hermione glanced over the girl worriedly, "I heard you fell ill after leaving Potions class."

"I'm much better now," Lyra promised, closing her book and returning it to the shelf.

"That's great," Hermione smiled. She had been spending so much time studying, doing her homework, and reading, that she had been ignoring Lyra, "Do you want to walk down to our flying lesson, together?"

Lyra nodded, "That'd be quite nice."

"Have you ever flown before?" Hermione asked curiously, once they had left the library.

"No," Lyra shook her head, "I don't care for it much. Daddy says it makes it easier for the Wrackspurts to get in your ears, but I have my earrings to protect me, so I should be fine."

Hermione frowned, but said nothing. She didn't want to risk upsetting Lyra by telling her what she thought of Wrackspurts and her other strange beliefs. It just simply wasn't logical.

"I've read a ton of books on flying," Hermione told her, "I am a bit nervous, but excited as well. Did you know that flying is one of the slowest methods of transportation in the Wizarding world?"

"Really?" Luna tilted her head to the side curiously.

"Mhmm," Hermione nodded, happy that someone found her fact interesting.

"Wow," Lyra looked up at the bright sky as they walked towards the field where flying lessons were taking place, "What a lovely day it is."

"It'll be autumn soon," Hermione mumbled.

"I do rather like Autumn," Lyra commented airily.

"Look, everyone," Malfoy laughed at Lyra and Hermione approached, "Loony Lyra is going to fly."

"Be quiet, Malfoy," Harry snapped, "She'll be able to fly just fine!"

"Unless the Wrackspurts penetrate the protection charm," Lyra looked up at the sky once more, "Then it could be quite disastrous."

Before anyone could respond to Lyra's statement, a loud whistle sounded signaling the start of class. A woman who resembled a hawk with spiky grey hair and piercing yellow eyes approached the group of first years, her aura stern.

"My name is Madame Hooch," the woman said clearly, "And I will be your flying instructor. Now, is everyone by their broomstick? Right, then. Stick out your right hand and say 'up!'."

"Up," Lyra smiled as her broom shot into her hand, "Yay. What a good broomstick."

A chorus of _'UP_!' continued to fill the air and Lyra's faint eyebrows knitted together curiously. Not many students' brooms shot up into their hands like she had thought they would. Some of them didn't even move. Only a few students had managed to get their brooms to do what they were supposed to. Harry was among one of them. She couldn't help but gasp when Ron's broom smacked him in the face.

The red-head turned to glare at her playfully, rubbing the middle of his forehead.

Once they'd all managed to get a hold of their brooms – some had to result to simply picking it up off of the ground – Madame Hooch began to teach them how to properly grip and mount the broom, "Mr. Malfoy, keep your thumbs pointed down. Not up."

"Madame Hooch, I've been riding a broom for years an-

"Then you've been doing it _wrong_ for years, Mr. Malfoy," Madame Hooch snapped, "Thumbs pointed _down_!"

The Gryffindors and even some of the Slytherin's sniggered at the expense of Draco finally being put in his place.

"Now," the instructor turned back towards the rest of the class and glared at them all, "When I blow my whistle, kick off the ground, hard," she ordered, "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, _only_. Three…two…o-

She didn't have time to even finish saying 'one' when Neville, afraid of being left behind, pushed off the ground too soon. It was obvious that the poor boy was afraid of heights as he cried out and whimpered, continuing to rise higher and higher.

"Come back here this instant," Madame Hooch shouted after him.

Lyra briefly wondered that if Neville's hands got sweaty when he was afraid or nervous as his grip seemed to loosen and become more slippery. Suddenly, he fell from the broom and Lyra covered her eyes with her hands. It was a good twenty feet to the ground and he landed with a loud thud.

The flying instructor was by his side in an instant, helping the trembling boy to unsteady feet. The Gryffindor's eyed their fellow Housemate with worry while the Slytherins snorted behind their hands. Lyra heard Madame Hooch diagnose Neville with a broken wrist.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing," Madame Hooch declared loudly. Her piercing yellow eyes narrowed dangerously, "You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say _'Quidditch_ ". Come along, dear."

As soon as Madame Hooch and Neville where out of earshot, Draco burst into loud laughter, drawing the attention of everyone on the lawn, "Did you see his face, the big oaf?"

Lyra's eyes widened. What kind of person laughed at someone else getting hurt? Even if they were rival Houses, she would definitely be worried if someone from Slytherin had fallen off their broom like Neville had.

"Look," Malfoy walked over and picked up the Remembrall that Neville's gran had sent him, "The idiot must have dropped it! Guess it's mine now."

"That doesn't belong to you," Lyra told him softly, "That belongs to Neville Longbottom. His gran sent it to him as a present. It's not right to take it."

"What did you say to me?" Draco sneered, rounding on her.

"She said that doesn't belong to you," Harry spoke up. He stood in front of Lyra, blocking her from Malfoy's view. He held out his hand, a fierce look on his face, "Give it here, Malfoy."

"Are you protecting your little girlfriend?" Draco seethed, laughing cruelly. He turned his attention back to the orb in his hand, "You know, I think I'll leave this somewhere for Longbottom to find. The roof, maybe?" with a kick of his feet, he was high in the air.

"Come and get it, Potter," Malfoy taunted, "Or are you scared?"

"Good luck, Harry Potter," Lyra said, watching Harry mount his broom, "Be careful of the Wrackspurts."

"I will," he promised her before he too, kicked off the ground and soared into the air.

"Lyra," Hermione didn't care to watch what was happening between Harry and Draco and made her way over, "Were you able to get your broom up?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded, looking at said broomstick that was resting on the ground, "It's very obedient. I think the flowers had something to do with it," she gestured towards the small daisies that were sprouting from the ground.

"I don't understand," Hermione murmured, looking utterly perplexed.

"They talk," Lyra smiled and knelt down to finger one of the small flowers, "Didn't you know?"

"I," Hermione shook her head slowly, "Lyra…flowers can't talk."

"Oh, but they can," Lyra insisted, smiling up at Hermione.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. Wrackspurts and Nargles she could somewhat deal with, but flowers talking? That wasn't even possible. Even in a world full of magic. She had read her textbooks and more from cover to cover and nowhere did it say that nature could talk.

"Lyra," she said firmly, "They can't talk. It's not possible. That's…that's completely-

"Mad?" Lyra finished for her, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, no, no," Hermione shook her head frantically, trying to backpedal, "That's not – I didn't mean that you-

"Look at Potter go!" somebody shouted, directing everyone's attention to the sky.

"He's fast!" it was Ron who had made the comment and all too soon, people began cheering for Harry.

"He threw Neville's present!" Hermione cried disapprovingly.

"He caught it," Ron cried.

Screams of triumph filled the air and Harry grinned as he dismounted his broom rather clumsily. His hand was raised high in the air and he clutched the glass ball tightly in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

"Uh-oh," Hermione winced as she saw Professor McGonagall storming onto the lawn. She didn't look very happy, "Lyra, did you see that?"

She turned to see the reaction from her friend and immediately sadness and guilt settled in her stomach.

Lyra was gone.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey stroked Lyra's long hair and pursed her lips.

"She's going to be alright?" Professor McGonagall asked worriedly, "Isn't she, Poppy?"

"Just needs a bit of rest," Madame Pomfrey murmured.

"I'm surprised I didn't see her leave," McGonagall's eyebrows knitted together, "After I went out there to get Potter."

"Well," Poppy removed her hand and went back to putting potion bottles away, "I told her I needed her to stop by anyway. Although, when she arrived…she looked rather…troubled."

"Lovegood looked troubled?" McGonagall asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, a bit," the matron said, "She left the flying lesson early, came here, and complained of another migraine. I had her lie down and gave her some potion to help. Poor girl fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her pulse is a little faint."

"I've heard the students have been calling her names," McGonagall informed her friend, "Peeves started it and I suppose people caught on. I asked her about it, but she said she wasn't bothered by it."

"Hmm," Poppy hummed, "I'll ask her what's been going on when she comes to, but for now she simply needs her rest."

"Very well," McGonagall nodded, taking that as her cue to leave, "Please, let me know if anything changes, Poppy."

"Of course, my dear," Poppy mumbled, beginning to dab Lyra's forehead with a cool cloth.

Lyra gave a small moan, her eyes fluttering a few times before opening slowly.

"Oh," Poppy drew back immediately, "I'm sorry, Ms. Lovegood. I didn't mean to wake you."

Lyra simply shook her head, "N-no. You didn't wake me up. I had very nice dreams."

"Here," Madame Pomfrey handed her a goblet full of water, "This should help your throat."

"Thank you," she accepted the water gratefully and after she was finished, she cleared her throat.

"How's your migraine?" Madame Pomfrey fussed, beginning to check her over, "You looked quite pale when you came to see me."

"It's a lot better now," Lyra smiled, running her fingers through her bed-head, "I hope I wasn't any trouble."

"You never are, Ms. Lovegood," Poppy took a seat on the bed; "Professor McGonagall came to speak with me. She's concerned."

"Oh no," Lyra frowned, "About what?"

"Have the students been picking on you?" Madame Pomfrey finally asked.

Lyra smiled, "Oh, it's all in good fun. I suspect that the other students think I'm rather…strange, but that's alright. I really don't mind."

"You know all of the staff members are here for you if you need to talk?" Madame Pomfrey asked her.

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra nodded.

"Very good," Madame Pomfrey patted her shoulder.

"How long have I been here?" Lyra looked around until her eyes settled upon the window. It was dark out.

"Almost all day, I'm afraid," Madame Pomfrey told her sadly, "You must have been exhausted."

"But I had just woken up," Lyra tilted her head to the side.

"Yes, well," Madame Pomfrey handed her a potion, "Sometimes, the body needs a lot more rest than we're aware of."

"Yes," Lyra downed the potion and handed her the empty vial, "I suppose so. May I return to Gryffindor Tower?"

"Ms. Lovegood…" Poppy began warningly.

"I really do feel loads better," Lyra smiled, "And I miss Helia quite a bit. I think she's worried about me."

"Very well," Madame Pomfrey finally relented, "Only because you've been good at taking your potions, but you must return here first thing in the morning. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra nodded obediently.

"On you go then, Ms. Lovegood," Poppy waved a hand towards the door, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Madame Pomfrey," Lyra jumped down from the bed and walked a little until she began skipping.

" _Lumos_ ," she muttered to her wand, smiling appreciatively when her wandtip began to glow, "Thank you very much."

She skipped down the corridors, humming a quiet tune to herself. She needed to make sure to give Helia and extra treat for being so patient with her. Lyra hadn't been able to spend much time with her pet like she had hoped.

 _"I almost told your brother, Percy – he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."_

 _"Come on."_

 _"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."_

 _"Go away."'_

 _"You shouldn't even be here! It's bad enough that you got rewarded for the stunt you pulled at Flying Lessons – you should have been expelled and now you're going to break the rules again!?"_

 _"I said go away!"_

 _"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so –"_

"Oh, look," Lyra smiled as she approached the portrait, "It's Harry Potter, Ro-

"Lyra," Hermione gasped, interrupting the dreamy-girl, "You're here! I mean – where have you been all day?"

"The Fat Lady has gone to visit a friend," Lyra stated more than asked.

"Yeah," Ron said absentmindedly, "Well, Harry and I have something to do. Goodbye."

"Well, we're coming with you," Hermione stamped her foot and grabbed Lyra's wrist; "We're not going to stand here and wait to get in trouble."

"And if we say no?" Ron demanded smirking.

"Then I'll go and wake Professor McGonagall," Hermione threatened.

"Fine," Ron huffed, "But if either of you get us caught…"

"Ooh," Lyra smiled as Hermione dragged her along, "Are we going on an adventure?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered, "Keep your voice down."

"Lyra," Hermione started curiously, "I really didn't mean-

"Shhh," Ron hissed, whipping out his wand as they approached the Trophy Room.

"I don't see Malfoy," Harry murmured.

"You reckon he chickened out?" Ron asked, looking around the room warily.

"Maybe…" Harry drawled out slowly.

"Oh, look," Lyra's eyes sparkled even in the darkness, "It's a kitty."

"No," Harry quickly pulled her back as she reached out to pet it, "That's Filch's cat. Mrs. Norris."

"What's he doing here?" Ron gasped.

"It was a trick," Hermione hissed, "I knew it! I tol-

"We should get out of here," Ron whispered nervously, interrupting Hermione.

"Agreed," Hermione huffed and began to storm away, running right into a suit of armor.

She gasped and covered her ears as it clanged loudly to the ground.

"Stop, right there," Filch shouted.

"RUN!" Harry yelled and the four of them sprinted out of the room, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another.

Harry was clearly in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in an empty hallway. They hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom.

"That was quite exciting," Lyra was the first to break the silence, not at all seeming exhausted from the run.

"I – told – you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. 'I – told – you. You – should've – l-listened!"

"I do hope the kitty was alright," Lyra mumbled.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," Ron told them.

"I don't hear anything," Harry mumbled, listening intently, "Let's go."

They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

"Oh, look," Luna smiled and waved, "Hello, Peeves. How are you this evening?"

Peeves gave a squeal of delight at the sight of them.

"Peeves, please don't say anything," Hermione almost begged, "You'll get us expelled."

Peeves cackled, "Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"What a lovely little rhyme," Lyra commented, much to the displeasure of the others, "But please. We really just want to go to bed. Is that alright?"

"Should tell Filch, I should," Peeves said in a saintly voice, but his beady eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know?"

"We don't have time for this," Ron swiped at the Poltergeist "Get out of the way!"

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Ron almost shouted as they began to run once more. Heading right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

"Move," Hermione pushed Ron out of the way and pulled out her wand, tapping it against the doorknob, " _Alohamora_."

"Hurry," Harry ushered them all inside as soon as he heard the sound of the lock click. Once inside, they shut it quickly and pressed their ears against it, listening.

 _"Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me,"_ it was Filch.

 _"Say 'please."_

 _"Don't mess around, where did they go?"_

 _'Shan't say nothing if you don't say please,'_ Peeves sang.

 _'All right – please.'_

 _"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"_ And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing rather loudly.

"I don't think I've been to this part of the castle before," Lyra mused, trying to make out any shapes.

"That's because we're on the third floor," Hermione wrung her hair nervously, "It's _forbidden_."

"Is that why?" Lyra pointed behind them, a smile still on her face.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowing fangs.

It was standing quite still. All three pair of eyes was staring at them rather oddly, as if their sudden appearance in the room had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

"Hello there," Lyra said.

"Come on," Hermione screamed, groping madly for the doorknob as the dog snapped its wide jaws madly.

They fell backwards and struggled madly to slam the door shut. Once they had locked it, they took off running once more and didn't stop until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" the portrait shriked, her hands on her hips.

"Did you have fun with your friend?" Lyra asked, smiling.

"Oh," The Fat Lady perked up immediately at seeing Lyra, "Hello, sweetheart. How good to see you."

Ron looked at Harry disbelievingly.

"It's good to see you too. We had an adventure, but now that it's over we are rather sleepy," Lyra told her, "The password is _Pig Snout_ , correct?"

"Correct, lovely," The Fat Lady swung forward, "Goodnight, Lyra."

"Goodnight," Lyra called, skipping into the Common Room.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like _that_ locked up in a school?" Ron finally said, breaking the silence. His face was pale, "Is Dumbledore mad?"

Hermione scoffed, "Don't you use your eyes? Didn't you see what it was guarding?"

"Of course not," Harry snapped, sounding irritated, "That thing had three heads."

"Well, it's obviously guarding something," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Thanks to your foolishness, we could have all been killed – or worse, expelled! Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed," she sniffed and turned on her heel, stomping up the girl's staircases.

"Goodnight Harry Potter," Lyra smiled, "Ron Weasley. Thank you for the adventure. It was quite a bit of fun."

She wigged her fingers at them before skipping up the staircase herself, leaving Ron and Harry behind.

Her other roommates were already asleep – including Hermione. She changed out of her robes and into her baby pink nightgown before she crawled into bed. Helia was resting on what of Lyra's pillows.

"Hello, little one," Lyra gently stroked her fur, "I've missed you a lot."

Helia nudged her nose against Luna's finger.

"I'm glad you forgive me," Lyra kissed the top of her head, "Maybe I can take you with me to class tomorrow, hm? Would you like that?"

She nodded to herself and snuggled under the covers, her hand lightly resting on Helia's back.


	5. Chapter 5

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron seethed to Harry after Charms class, "She's a nightmare honestly. It's why she has no friends."

Suddenly, Hermione appeared behind him and pushed past using her shoulder. Her books were clutched her chest as she ran and tears streamed down her face.

"I-I think she heard you," Harry told Ron quietly.

Lyra stopped abruptly, watching Hermione's retreating form. She turned to Ron, who was looking a bit uncomfortable, "She's crying."

Ron simply shrugged, not really sure what to say.

"Come on, Helia," Lyra drew her eyes up to the bunny that was resting comfortably on top of her head, "Let's go see if she's alright."

Without another word to Harry and Ron, she skipped easily through the crowd that was rushing to get to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast.

Coming upon one of the girl's bathrooms, Lyra pushed open the door and peered inside. She knew it was the right bathroom because she could hear Hermione sobbing quietly. She went inside and perched herself upon one of the sinks, beginning to swing her legs back and forth, "Hermione Granger?"

She heard a surprised gasp come from behind one of the closed doors, "G-go aw-aw-away!" the voice sobbed.

"Are you alright?" Lyra asked quietly.

"…" Hermione said nothing.

"I'm sorry that Ronald Weasley hurt your feelings," Lyra said sincerely, "That wasn't very nice of him. I don't think he understood that you were simply trying to help him with the spell."

"H-he's right," Hermione sobbed, "N-no o-one li-likes me!"

"I like you," Lyra said simply, smiling, "And Helia does as well. She's really happy that you've been taking care of her."

Hermione choked on a small laugh, "Well…I-I like h-her too."

"Will you come out now?" Lyra prodded gently, "Please? We don't have to attend the feast. We can go back up to the Common Room."

"Really?" Hermione whimpered, peering at Lyra through the crack in the stall.

"Of course," Lyra smiled, "It sounds like great fun."

"O-Okay," Hermione sniffled.

The door unlocked and creaked open slowly. Hermione came out a few seconds later, her eyes red and her nose running.

"Would you like a hug?" Lyra offered, hopping off the sink, "Hugs make everything better."

Hermione nodded and her lip trembled as she launched herself into Lyra's arms, "I-I'm so sorry a-about what I said."

"That's quite alright," Lyra told her, pulling away from the hug, "Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

Taking a paper towel, Lyra wet it and began to dab at Hermione's face, "The cool water helps the redness go down."

"Thanks, Lyra," Hermione accepted a dry paper towel and blew her nose.

"You're quite welcome," Lyra smiled and dabbed at Hermione's eyes some more before throwing the paper towel away, "There. All better."

"Let's go to the Common Room," Hermione offered, holding out her hand.

Lyra nodded in agreement and the two left the bathroom, hand-in-hand.

"Have you had Helia on top of your head all day?" Hermione asked, peering up at the bunny curiously.

"Oh, yes," Lyra nodded, drawing her eyes up to the top of her head once more, "I think she rather likes it up there."

"She's such a sweet little thing," Hermione smiled, "She's so cute."

"Yes," Lyra nodded again, "She really is. Thank you for taking care of her for me when I'm away."

"You're welcome," Hermione smiled.

"I've been trying to teach her tricks, but she usually just falls asleep," Lyra's eyebrows knitted together, "She does that a lot actually. I suspect Wra-

"Ugh," Hermione's face scrunched up suddenly and she stopped mid-step to cover her nose with the sleeves of her robes, "What is that foul smell!?"

"I'm not sure," Lyra looked a bit ill herself and she took Helia off of her head and into her arms, tucking her gently into the pockets of her robe to get her away from the smell.

"It's probable Peeves throw-

Hermione stopped, her eyes growing wide and her face going a chalky white. She tugged on Lyra's robes, "L-Lyra," she rasped, pointing a shaky finger.

Lyra followed Hermione's finger with her wide eyes and gasped herself, her face paling much like Hermione's. Stalking along the corridors, was a hulking wall of flesh. The creature's head lightly grazed the ceiling and it seemed to be all lumpy torso and long arms that dragged a wooden club on the floor. It had thick folds of granite grey skin that resembled a rhinoceros. Its head was the smallest part of its body, betraying its tiny brains.

"I-it's a mountain troll," Hermione said so quietly that Lyra almost didn't hear her.

"Shhh," Lyra hissed and grabbed Hermione's hand, beginning to back up slowly towards the bathroom.

Tears were in Hermione's eyes and her hand shook in Lyra's as the bathroom door shut with a loud squeak, "W-what if-if-

"I think we'll be alright," Lyra mumbled, bringing Hermione to the farthest wall from the bathroom door. Slowly, the pair slid down to the ground, "Let's just stay in here for a bit."

They could hear the sound of the trolls club dragging against the stone floor and the sound of its confused grunts.

"Is it…gone?" Hermione asked, breaking the deafening silence.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, splintering it into a thousand wood pieces.

Lyra and Hermione screamed and shielded their faces from the flying debris, causing the troll to turn its clueless beady eyes towards them. It raised its club and slammed it down, smashing sinks off of the walls and spraying water all over the bathroom.

"Come on," Hermione screeched, tugging on Lyra's arm, "We have to-

She screamed again and dropped to the floor just as the troll swung its club.

"Hermione!"

"Lyra!"

"What are you doing here?" Hermione shrieked at Harry and Ron, "You'll be killed!"

"Distract it!" Harry shouted to Ron.

"Oi, pea-brain!" Ron yelled, chucking a metal pipe at its shoulder. The troll blinked a few times at the sound of Ron's voice, "Over here!"

With the troll's attention now on Ron, Harry sprinted across the bathroom to the two girls pressed up against the wall, "We have to get out of here!"

The four of them shouting seemed to drive the troll mad. It roared and twisted its head violently, swinging the club without any target in mind. The room was destroyed in a mere second and the troll began to get closer and closer to Ron.

"Stay here," Harry commanded the two before he did something just as mad as the troll: he ran as fast as he could and jumped, linking his skinny arms around the troll's thick neck. Hermione grimaced when Harry shoved his wand up its nose.

The troll roared again and began flailing its arms and the large cub madly while Harry hung on for dear life.

"Ron, do something!" Hermione shouted, covering her face to shield herself from the debris that flew.

" _Wingardiam Leviosa_ ," Ron cried, raising his wand with a trembling hand.

The club lifted itself from the troll's grip and hovered a few feet above its head. The troll blinked owlishly just as the club came down upon his head with a sickening crack. Its eyes rolled into the back of his small head and he staggered for a moment before he fell forward, unmoving.

"Is it – is it...dead?" Lyra asked, uncovering her face.

Ron shook his head and pulled Harry's wand from its nose. He gagged and wiped the grey bogies on the troll's trousers, "No. It's just knocked out."

"Are you guys all right?" Harry pocketed his wand.

"I-I'm fine," Hermione stuttered out, her hands trembling.

"Lyra?" Harry looked towards her worriedly.

"I'm not hurt," she mumbled, pulling Helia out of her pocket, "Helia's alright as well. Just a bit frightened."

"What on earth!?" an angry voiced screeched. It was Professor McGonagall. Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell stood on either side of her.

"Professors," Hermione gasped, her shoulders sagging in relief.

"You could have been killed," McGonagall continued, her shrieks echoing off of what was left of the tiles, "Why are you not in your dormitory!?"

"I, um," Hermione cleared her throat, causing everyone to look in her direction, "I came in here because I was upset and Lyra came in after me. Harry and Ron came to save us. If it wasn't for them, we'd probably be dead."

Ron looked uncomfortable as he turned to look at Hermione, "It's my fault that you two got in this situation in the first place. I-I'm sorry about what I said. You were just trying to help and I guess I got kind of annoyed. I shouldn't have said those things. You don't say that to a friend."

Hermione gasped and her eyes watered. Before Ron knew what was happening, the girl had launched herself in his arms and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, his face matching the color of his hair.

Professor McGonagall seemed to have calmed down and she cleared her throat loudly to get everyone's attention, "Well, you four are very lucky. Not many first years could take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. You each win Gryffindor five points and Professor Dumbledore will be filled in on what has occurred. You may go."

"Professor Snape," Lyra's eyebrows knitted together worriedly. Her wide eyes were focused on the place where his robes were torn, exposing the bloody state of his ankle, "You-

"I believe," Professor Snape interrupted harshly, adjusting his robes, "That Professor McGongall has dismissed you all back to your Common Room. Be on your way."

"I shall accompany you," Professor McGonagall stated, "I trust you can handle everything from here, Severus? Quirinus?"

"Of course, Minerva," Snape drawled out, clamping a hand tightly on Quirrell's shoulder. He glared at the man draped in purple, "Not to worry."

"Very good," McGonagall nodded curtly, "Come along, you four."

The four children followed Professor McGonagall out of the demolished restroom, keeping their eyes downwards.

"You sure you're alright?" Ron asked Hermione worriedly.

"Yes," Hermione smiled at him shyly, "I'm fine, Ron. Thanks."

"Lyra," Harry gasped, "You're bleeding!"

"Am I?" Lyra gingerly touched her face and when she pulled her hand back, red stained her fingers, "Oh, I am."

"Lovegood," Professor McGonagall looked her over worriedly as they approached the portrait, "Do you need to see the Matron?"

"Oh, Lyra," the portrait cried before the girl could answer, "You're face! Are you alright? Goodness, Minerva the poor girl needs medical attention!"

"I just asked her that," McGonagall snapped to the portrait, "Before you interrupted her," she turned back to Lyra, "Would you like me to escort you to see Madame Pomfrey?"

"No," Lyra declined, stroking Helia soothingly, "I'll be alright. It's just a scratch."

"Very well. I trust you four will be able to make it through the portrait without attracting any more trouble?" Professor McGonagall quirked a single eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said obediently before giving the awaiting portrait the correct password.

"Thank you for being so concerned about me," Lyra patted the Fat Lady's frame fondly, "But I'm alright."

"If you say so, deary," the portrait followed Lyra with her eyes until the eldest Lovegood sister made it into the Common Room safely.

"What in Merlin happened to you four?" Angelina Johnson asked, her dark eyebrows knitting together.

"Have you been fighting?" this time, it was Alicia Spinnet who had asked.

"Mountain Troll," Hermione, Ron, and Harry said in unison.

"The one that was in the dungeons?" Angelina asked, her eyes wide, "Really?"

"Hermione and Lyra got trapped in the girl's restroom," Ron explained shortly, "We went to go save them."

"You were in a girl's lavatory," Percy shouted at his younger brother.

"Lyra," George gasped, his attention immediately being drawn from two of his brothers bickering when he saw the state of her face. He quickly went to her side, "You're bleeding!"

"Hello, George Weasley," Lyra smiled, "Not to worry. It-

"Come sit down," George interrupted, grabbing one of her hands and leading her to the couch. He lowered her down gently, "Does anything else hurt?"

"No," Lyra shook her head, smiling even wider when George pressed a wet napkin to the cut on her face. She reached up a pale hand and cupped his cheek, beginning to gently rub the pad of her thumb over it before she lowered it back onto her lap to pet Helia, "You're very kind, George Weasley."

George was blushing furiously and his eyes darted around a bit, "T-thank you. And I told you…just call me George."

"Ah, yes," Lyra giggled, "I must have forgotten."

"Must be the Wrackspurts," George suggested, smirking.

Lyra beamed at him, "Yes. It must be."

"All right, you three?" Fred asked the other first years. He had been busy watching the exchange between Lyra and his brother.

"All right, Fred," Ron answered.

"You lot hungry?" Lee asked. When he received nods from the Quartet, he gestured to a table behind him, "They brought the feast up to the Common Rooms. Help yourselves."

"I'll get you something," George said instantly, jumping to his feet.

Lyra clasped his wrist, "Oh, you don't-

"I want to," George insisted, squeezing her hand, "And I'll get something for Helia too."

* * *

"Harry, you have to eat something," Hermione practically begged, "You're going to need your strength. It is your first match."

Harry sighed, pushing his eggs around his plate with his fork. Eventually he gave up and pushed his plate away, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand, "I'm not hungry."

"Just a bit of toast," Lyra suggested, pushing the platter towards him, "Or some juice."

Harry made a face and shook his head, "I-I can't."

"But you'll do great," Hermione continued to argue, "You've got that really fancy broom. It's one of the newest models, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. Professor McGonagall had bought him a Nimbus Two-Thousand. It was one of the fastest brooms out there. The handle was sleek, not a twig was out of place, and its title was engraved neatly in gold. It was also a bonus to see the look on Malfoy's face when he saw Harry with his gift in the corridors.

"And the book seemed to help some," Hermione was persistent to try and ease his nerves, "I'm sure that Professor Snape will give it back. There was really no reason for him to take it in the first place."

"You'll do great, Harry Potter," Lyra promised, "Really. You have flying in your blood, remember?"

"I know," Ron leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "Why don't you tell Hermione and Lyra about the package? The one in Gringotts."

Lyra's eyebrows knitted together, "What package?"

Harry sighed heavily. At least telling them would be a distraction, "Well, when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, we got some money from my vault in Gringotts, and then we went to this other vault that was really high security, but there was only one little thing in there. It was wrapped in brown paper, and it was about this big." Harry indicated something that was small enough to fit in his hand. "And Hagrid took it out, and he said it was Hogwarts business, and he wouldn't tell me what it was. But I read in the newspaper that someone tried to rob a vault that had just been emptied later that same day."

"Really?" Hermione gasped, "So you think that dog is guarding whatever was in the vault?"

"That does make sense," Lyra mumbled, feeding Helia some rabbit food.

"Yes, but who would be mad enough to try and get past that thing?" Ron asked.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," Lyra smiled as the stoic professor walked past.

"Ms. Lovegood," his onyx eyes latched onto her bright ones, "After breakfast, the Matron would like to see you."

"Yes, sir," Lyra nodded obediently as she gave Helia some water, "Have a nice day."

"What happened to his leg?" Harry watched Snape walk away, his eyebrows furrowed, "He's limping."

"Didn't you see?" Lyra asked, "In the loo when we defeated the mountain troll. His leg was bleeding quite a bit and it did look as though he'd been attacked."

"Or bitten," Hermione whispered loudly, shaking Ron.

"I bet he let the troll in," Harry breathed, "To create a diversion and take whatever that dog is guarding, but he couldn't get past."

Ron nodded, "It makes sense."

"Toast?" Lyra pressed once more, offering him the platter, "It's really good with jam."

Harry sighed and reluctantly took a piece. He offered Lyra a nervous smile, "Thanks."

Fred and George stood up suddenly and each pumped a fist into the air, interrupting whatever Hermione was going to say.

"It's time—" Fred started loudly.

"—For Quidditch!" George finished off with a loud shot.

* * *

"It is starting to get a bit chilly out," Lyra mused, wrapping her Gryffindor scarf tighter around her neck, "I do hope it snows this year."

"It was a good idea to leave Helia inside," Hermione murmured, taking a seat next to Ron.

"Yes," Lyra agreed, nodding, "I don't think she would like this weather."

"Have we missed anything?" Hermione asked, turning to Ron.

"The Slytherin's are playing dirty like always," Ron snorted, "Rotten gits."

"Look," Hermione shook Ron violently and pointed up at the sky, "They've spotted the Snitch. See?"

"Hey," Ron shouted when Marcus Flint shoved Harry out of the way, "He almost knocked Harry off his broom.

"That wasn't very nice," Lyra commented.

"So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

 _"Jordan!"_ Professor McGonagall yelled, narrowing her eyes at the dark-skinned Gryffindor.

"I mean after that open and revolting foul—"

 _"Jordan, I'm warning you—"_

"Alright, alright," Lee conceded, sighing loudly into the megaphone, "Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone I'm sure –but don't be too surprised if he gets subjected to a public prank – so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play. Gryffindor still in possession—

"What the bloody hell is he doing?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing at the speck that was Harry.

"His broom," Lyra muttered. Her eyes widened suddenly and she brought a hand to cover her mouth, "He's going to fall!"

Everyone was looking up at Harry now. Harry's broom had gone haywire and looked as though it was trying to throw him off. Fred and George tried to pull him onto their brooms, but Harry only soared higher.

"Ron," Hermione tugged roughly on Ron's robes, "Ron, Ron! Look!"

"What?" Ron narrowed his eyes and followed Hermione's gaze to the Teacher's Box, "Blimey, Hermione! You have the binoc-

"It's Professor Snape," Hermione cried, cutting him off, "He's jinxing Harry's broom!"

"What!?" Ron practically shouted, "That greasy-

"Lyra, come on," Hermione urged, pulling the blonde out of her seat, "I need you to come with me. We have to do something! We'll be right back, Ron."

"Another adventure?" Lyra asked as they ducked between the stands.

"We have to stop Professor Snape," Hermione whispered.

"Oh no," Lyra gasped, quickly taking a look over her shoulder, "I knocked over Professor Quirrel. Do you think he's alright?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Hermione mumbled.

She and Lyra ducked behind the row where Snape was sitting and she gestured for Lyra to pull out her wand.

"Ready?" Hermione asked.

Lyra nodded.

" _Hyacinthoides Flamma_ ," they whispered, pointing their wands at Snape's robes.

A bright blue flame erupted from their wand tips and latched itself onto the hem of Snape's robes.

Pulling a jam jar from inside her robes, Hermione scooped the remaining flame into the jar and twisted the lid as tight as she could. She didn't want to burn the whole field down.

"Come on," she urged, grabbing Lyra's hand again, "Everything should be alright now."

"We did it," Hermione breathed when she and Lyra returned to their seats.

"What did you do?" Ron asked, glancing from her to Lyra.

"We set Professor Snape's robes on fire," Lyra said casually, smoothing her hair and smiling, "I knocked over Professor Quirrell, though. I think I broke his nose."

"Wait, you set…?" Ron blinked a few times, "You did – what!?"

"Potter once again has control over his broom and it looks as though he's spotted the snitch," Lee Jordan shouted, earning cheers from the crowd.

Lyra turned her head back towards the Quidditch Pitch just in time to see Harry land hard and roll on the ground. She leaned in closer when he started to hack violently into his hand, "Is he ill?"

Her alarm turned into shock when what Harry had been gagging on fell into his hand. It was the Golden Snitch.

The pitch erupted into both confusion and excitement. The Gryffindors stormed the field while the Slytherins yelled out their protests. Marcus approached Madame Hooch, his face red with rage.

"Come on," Hermione demanded, jumping up from her seat.

Lyra along with Ron and Hagrid, followed Hermione onto the pitch where Harry was swarmed in a sea of red and gold Gryffindor's who were cheering loud enough to shake the entire pitch.

* * *

After the match, Hagrid has whisked them all away to his hut for a celebratory cup of tea.

"It was Snape," Hermione blurted as soon as she had her tea, "That's why your broom was acting like that. He was cursing you!"

"What!?" Harry cried. Although, he honestly wasn't surprised, "Snape cursed my broom?"

"Rubbish," Hagrid boomed angrily, "He's a Hogwarts teacher!"

"So what?" Ron said boldly, "Hermione and I saw him do it!"

"Well, yeh saw wrong," Hagrid stated simply, starting a fire for the kettle, "Why would Snape do something like that?"

"Why would he try to get past that three-headed-dog on Halloween?" Lyra countered.

There was a loud clash as Hagrid dropped the kettle and what once was going to be a cup of celebration, was now all over the floor.

Hagrid whirled around to face them, "How do yeh know abou' Fluffy?!"

"Fluffy!?" three of the four students chorused.

"Aw," Lyra smiled and sipped from her large mug, "What a lovely name."

"That…that thing has a name?" Ron choked on his saliva.

"Course he do," Hagrid said in a nonchalant manner, "He's mine. Bought 'im from a Greek chappie an' lent him to Dumbledore ter guard the-

"Yes?" Harry prompted, his eyebrows raised.

"T-that's top secret, that is," Hagrid stuttered to their eager faces, his face flushed with embarrassment at the slip-up.

"But what if Snape tries to steal it?" Hermione asked almost irritably, trying to get the giant to understand.

"He's a Hogwarts teacher," Hagrid repeated firmly.

"But, Hagrid-

"Listen ter me, yeh four," Hagrid interrupted Hermione gently, "Yeh're meddlin' in thing's yeh don' understand. What Fluffy is gaudin' is between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel-

"Who?" Lyra asked immediately, tilting her head to the side.

"Nothin'," Hagrid cried frantically, cursing under his breath.

The Quartet cut their visit with Hagrid short after he revealed that small piece of information.

"I know I've heard of that name before," Harry grumbled to himself his arm around Elsa's waist, "I can't remember where."

"Then there's only one place we can go," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Ron groaned and hung his head, "Please don't say it."

"The library," Hermione smiled widely.

"Noooooo," Ron whined.

"Yay!" Lyra cheered, skipping ahead of them

"Ugggggh," Ron groaned again and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You are so melodramatic," she told him, "We don't have to start at exactly this moment. We should look through our own books first."

"And," Ron interjected, "It's the first time Gryffindor has beat Slytherin in years. I bet there's a party going on."

"Nice job, Harry Potter," Lyra grinned, "You did brilliantly."

"Thanks," Harry grinned and then winced himself, "Although, I did almost choke to death."

Ron shrugged almost carelessly, "It was worth it."

"Lyra," Hermione started worriedly, wincing, "Your feet. Don't they hurt?"

"A bit," Lyra answered, "But that's alright. You get used to it."

"Maybe you should start wearing shoes?" Hermione suggested.

"They're prisons for your feet," Lyra, Ron, and Harry all said together.

They all looked at each other before they burst into laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

Lyra grimaced as she was pushed back gently against the wall. She rubbed the sore spot on her head, but said nothing of it.

"I'm so so so sorry," the boy dressed in Hufflepuff robes repeated, turning away from Lyra to gather up her books that were strewn about the corridor, "I wasn't paying attention. It's my fault, really. Is your head alright?"

"Don't you play Quidditch?" Lyra asked, ignoring his question, "You're play Seeker. Just like Harry Potter."

"Yes," the boy nodded, placing Lyra's books next to her, "I've seen you in the stands and around school. Your father is good friends with mine."

"You're very kind for helping me," Lyra placed a hand on his arm, "Most people wouldn't have."

"I don't think that's right," the boy returned the smile and held out a hand, "Cedric Diggory."

"Lyra Lovegood," she shook his hand, "It's very nice to meet you."

"Your head hurts," Cedric mumbled guiltily, moving Lyra's hand away so he could take a look at it, "Can I walk you to the Matron?"

"That'd be quite nice, Cedric Diggory," Lyra climbed to her feet, leaning against the wall for support.

"Just Cedric," he mumbled, holding his arms out in case she collapsed, "Alright?"

Lyra's eyes were squeezed shut, her faint eyebrows furrowed as if she was concentrating on something.

"Lyra?" Cedric hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"F-fine," Lyra breathed, her eyes fluttering open slowly. She blinked a few times, "I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy."

"Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey," placing Lyra's books into his own school satchel, he wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her steady.

"The Hat considered placing me in Hufflepuff," Lyra said after a few minutes of silence.

"Really?" Cedric glanced at her briefly, his eyes wide with interest, "Why didn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Lyra nodded, "It said your House is very accepting. That you value loyalty and hold no judgment. Your element is earth."

"We do not judge," Cedric nodded his head in agreement, "And we would have been very happy to have you in our House. You mentioned our element? You like nature?"

"I talk to trees," Lyra smiled, "Flowers too. They're very kind."

Cedric pursed his lips, "What do they say?" he asked after a heavy silence.

"Nice things," Lyra smiled warmly. No one had ever asked her before, "They're very helpful. The flowers helped me get my broom up during flying lessons," she whispered the last part and Cedric strained to hear her.

"How very kind of them," Cedric said just as they approached their destination. He knocked on the door that was already ajar, "Madame Pomfrey?"

He led Lyra to a vacant bed and helped her sit down, "Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes," Madame Pomfrey came out of the back room, wiping her hands on a cloth, "Mr. Diggory are you - oh, Lyra. I should have known it was you, deary."

Lyra wiggled her fingers in greeting, "Hello, Poppy."

The Matron huffed at the use of her first name, but said nothing of it as she whipped out her wand, "What have you gotten yourself into now, Ms. Lovegood? Another migraine? Feeling faint?"

"We were walking down opposite ends of the corridor and we bumped into each other," Cedric explained, his kind eyes holding traces of guilt, "She fell and hit her head."

"You did a very good thing by bringing her here, Mr. Diggory," Poppy clicked her tongue as she examined Lyra's head, "Hmm. Nothing too serious. Just a bruise and a minor bump on the head."

Her wand tip glowed a faint blue and she gently pressed it to Lyra's head, apologizing when the girl winced.

"All done," she said, helping Lyra off the bed, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, a lot better," Lyra smiled and accepted her books from Cedric, "Thank you."

"On you go, then," Poppy patted her fondly on the head, "And don't forget to see Professor Snape after supper."

"Yes, ma'am," Lyra waved once more before she took her leave with Cedric, "Thank you for accompanying me."

"You're welcome," Cedric told her, "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yes," she nodded in both agreement and surprise, "I'll see you later."

Bouncing a little on her heels, Lyra made a sound of excitement before skipping away towards the Common Room.

Friends. She actually had friends and she couldn't wait to send an owl to her father and sister telling them about each and every one of them.

" _Fairy lights_ ," she chirped, once reaching the portraits.

"Good, good," the Fat Lady praised, swinging open, "Come on in, darling."

"Thank you," Lyra skipped through the portrait and into the Common Room.

"Lyra," Ron called, grinning when he spotted her, "We were about to send out a search party, mate."

"Where have you _been_?" Hermione ran up to her, grasping her arms tightly, "Are you alright?"

"I made a friend," Lyra responded softly.

"Who?" Harry asked, scooting over to make room for Lyra. They always took the four armchairs near the fireplace so that they stayed warm and out of earshot.

"Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff," Lyra told him, sticking her wand behind her ear, "He came with me to the Hospital Wing."

"You made friends with Pretty Boy Diggory!?" Fred blurted loudly, "Really?"

"Uh-huh," Lyra nodded, her curls bouncing, "We bumped into each other and I hit my head. He took me to see Poppy."

"Cedric Diggory," Alicia sighed, resting her cheek in her palm, "He's quite good-looking if you ask me. Almost every girl here fancies him."

"Seems to be a bit of a narcissist if you ask me," George grumbled.

"He's in Hufflepuff," Hermione pointed out, sounding a bit smug. She detected a hint of jealously in George's voice, "Everyone knows they're the least bit narcissistic. Don't you think so, Lyra?"

She turned her head, waiting on her best friend's answer, but Lyra was no longer sitting in the armchair she usually occupied.

"She's talking to the plant," Harry said casually, gesturing towards where Lyra was standing.

"The whole school is going completely mad because she sits at one of the Slytherin tables during Potions," Ron grinned, "You should see the look on Malfoy's face when she goes over there. It's hilarious."

"I think she's mental," a first-year commented, looking up from his Transfiguration essay, "I've heard strange things about her. Me dad told me. She's not to be trusted. I heard she-

"Shove off will ya'?!" George shouted, jumping to his feet, "You don't know anything about her!"

"And you do?" the first-year countered, climbing to his own feet, "What do you know that the rest of the school doesn't?"

"..." George remained silent.

"That's what I thought," the first-year smirked, "She's not supposed to be here, you know? She belongs in Slytherin. I've overheard the ghosts talking about it."

"Because they're so trustworthy?" Harry finally spoke up, his eyes hard, "What else do they have to do besides spread worthless gossip?"

"Obviously she belongs here," Ron snapped, "Why else would the hat place her here, you slick git?"

Flustered, the first-year stormed up the stairs to the boys dormitory.

"...you don't think it's true, right?" Hermione asked, glancing at Lyra who was still jabbering away at the plant, "She belongs here. In Gryffindor. With us!"

"Of course she does," Angelina mumbled, "That was a bunch of rubbish."

Hermione nodded and pursed her lips. If she really thought about it, what did she actually know about Lyra Lovegood?

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to put shoes on?" Fred asked.

"I'm sure, Fred Weasley," Lyra turned her head briefly to smile at him; "They're prisons for your feet."

Fred sighed, not sure why anyone even bothered to ask her about the footwear. In fact, he wasn't really sure how he got roped into making a snowman with Lyra. George had studying to do and Hermione, Harry, and Ron had gone to visit Hagrid. That only left him as a lot of people in Gryffindor were wary of Lyra.

"Will you at least let me re-bandage your feet after we're done?" Fred asked, wincing slightly. The bandages were completely soaked through. Her feet had to be cold.

"You don't have to do that," Lyra finally came to a stop, "This is a perfect spot."

"Okay, then..." Fred mumbled, unsure of what to do next.

"He's going to be really cute," she said matter-of-factly, making a snowball, "You can name him if you want."

Fred watched her for a moment. Her usual spacey gaze was flecked with determination and her cheeks were rosy with cold. Lyra Lovegood was definitely the strangest person he had ever met. Even stranger than Dumbledore…and that was saying something.

"You're having a deep thought," Lyra said, tilting her head to the side, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Fred responded quickly, beginning to make the middle snowball for the snowman, "I'm brilliant."

"I see," she responded simply.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked curiously, "You look cold."

"A bit," she answered. She was dressed in nothing but a pair of black leggings, a black sweater with the Gryffindor patch sewn into it, and a pair of black gloves.

"Have you ever made a snowman before?" Fred asked curiously, quirking his eyebrow at the oddly shaped base.

"No," Lyra shook her head, "At home, we're usually chasing away the Nargles. They infect our mistletoe, you see. They're really quite troublesome."

"Oh," Fred blinked a couple of times, "Well, who does it now that you're away?"

"My sister, Luna," Lyra smiled widely as she placed the head of the snowman on top of the middle ball, "She'll be arriving next year."

"I take it you two get along?" he asked.

"Mmhm," a smile still on her face, Lyra pulled a half eaten carrot from her pocket and stuck it in the middle of the snowman's face, "I took the carrot from Helia. I don't think she'll mind."

"Why don't you take my jacket?" Fred offered, seeing her tremble. Although, he could see her efforts to hide it, "You're going t-

He stopped when a firm snowball flew past his head and hit Lyra in the middle of her chest, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Alright?" Fred chuckled, "Must've been some first year that threw it. I didn't think you would be knocked down so easily, mate."

She didn't move.

"Lyra," he called a little louder, running over to her and dropping to his knees. His eyes widened and he lifted her up slightly, gasping when her head lolled back.

She was unconscious.

"Lyra," he said, shaking her gently, "Lyra, can you hear me? Lyra!"

"Help," he shouted to no one in particular, "Somebody help!"

 _"Mr. Weasley!"_

Fred's head snapped up and he almost sighed with relief. It was Professor Quirrell with Professor McGonagall trailing closely behind him.

"W-w-what o-on ea-earth happened?" the jumpy professor stuttered, kneeling down in the snow. He pressed a hand to Lyra's forehead and then scrabbled for her wrist.

"Someone threw," Fred shook head, cutting himself off, "A snowball hit her in the chest and she just...fell. I didn't see who threw it."

"We must take to her to the Matron," McGonagall breathed, "Quickly! We need Severus."

"A-a-allow m-me to t-take her t-to P-

"Of course, of course," Minerva waved him off, already making her way back towards the castle, "Common Room, Mr. Weasley!"

Professor Quirrell picked up Lyra bridal style and nodded once to Fred, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"She'll be alright?" Fred asked, his eyebrows knitting together worriedly.

"O-of co-course," the older wizard nodded, before walking away towards the castle.

Fred pursed his lips, watching Quirrell's brightly retreating form. Lyra lying still and unmoving on the snowy ground and McGonagall's worried face would haunt him for a very long time.

* * *

"What's wrong with her?"

"I suggest, Weasley," Snape ground out, not bothering to look up from his book, "That you knock before entering one's quarters."

"What's wrong with her?" George repeated, pulling off his mittens.

He had been working on his homework (a bit reluctantly) when Fred had burst into the warmed Common Room, informing him that Lyra had collapsed and been taken to the infirmary. It seemed as though every time someone even mentioned Lyra, it was because she had been taken to the Hospital Wing.

"I haven't the faintest idea to whom you are referring to," Snape told him simply, "I suggest returning-

" _Lyra_ ," George snapped, his patience growing thin, "What's wrong with Lyra?"

Shutting his book, Snape finally raised his head, "I suggest asking Ms. Lovegood. I believe she's resting in the Hospital Wing."

"She's not there," George told him, "Madame Pomfrey said she hadn't been there all day."

"The Common Room, then," Snaoe suggested, waving his hand towards the door, "I do not have time for this, Mr. Weasley."

"She's going to be alright," George said after a few moments of tense silence, "Isn't she?"

"You are testing my patience you-

The fireplace roared and Snape turned his head, quirking an eyebrow with curiosity, "Albus."

"I see you have company," Dumbledore said, peering over at George, "Perhaps I should-

"What do you want, Albus?" Snape demanded.

"Professor Sprout has brought Ms. Lovegood to my office. She claims found her wandering the corridors and she seems a bit…disoriented."

"I will be there as soon as I can," the potions master sighed heavily and pushed his book aside.

"I take it you have remembered the password," Dumbledore stated more than asked before his head disappeared, leaving behind burning coals.

* * *

Snape pocketed the potion once more and hesitated before stepping on the escalator that would take him to Dumbledore's office.

He knew their would be trouble when he was informed that Lyra Lovegood would be attending Hogwarts…they had been prepping for the girls arrival for years. he just didn't think all of this trouble would involve him.

He entered the office without bothering to knock and his black eyes landed immediately on the young Gryffindor. There she was, lying in the middle of the floor while Poppy was uncorking vials and mumbling directions to Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, Severus," Poppy breathed, without bothering to look up, "Thank goodness you've arrived. Ms. Lovegood's been poisoned! She's conscious, but unresponsive and she's burning up. 103.4."

"Why is she not in hospital?" Snape demanded, pulling a vial of fever reducer from his robes.

"I didn't want to move her and risk the poison spreading," Poppy accepted the potion and uncorked it, "Here, love, drink this. It'll help you feel better."

"Here's a blanket," McGonagall threw it over Lyra's trembling form.

Severus knelt down besides Madame Pomfrey and took Lyra's arm in his hands. Even her arm was hot to the touch as he gently rolled up one of her gloves.

Her veins were a dark gray. Even the large scar on her forearm had grown dark in color.

"We need to dilute the poison," Poppy said quickly, "Don't move her!"

"Bezoar," Snape said simply, "Just shove a bezoar down her throat and keep her warm. She'll sweat the poison out."

Poppy dug through Severus' potions kit, pulling out the mud-colored stone, a purple potion bottle, and another fever reducer.

"I need you to swallow this for me, dear," Poppy said soothingly, forcing the stone into Lyra's mouth, "There you are. A couple more potions."

Lyra tried to nod as she felt something making it's way down her throat, but her body felt like lead. She was hot. Too hot. What she would give to be back outside in the snow where it was cool and crisp.

"I would like her to remain in the hospital wing until all poison has been expelled from her system," Dumbledore said, finally speaking up, "Until we are able to find out who is responsible, Ms. Lovegood is to be on very close watch. Severus, stay a moment, hm?"

"Of course," Snape ground out, watching Poppy and Minerva take Lyra away on a stretcher. Once they were out of earshot, he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.

"Something on your mind, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, taking a sip from his tea, "You look troubled, my son."

"I was not hired to be a babysitter, old man," Snape snapped, "I have no time for this nonsense!"

Dumbledore's expression suddenly turned grave, his eyes flashing behind half-moon spectacles, "You gave me your word, Severus. Do not forget that I have vouched for you many many times. As of now, things are alright."

"She could have been killed," Snape shouted, gesturing towards the door.

"But she was not," Dumbledore said, remaining calm, "Perhaps this was a prank gone too far? I've noticed the Slytherins-

"Do not," Snape growled through clenched teeth, "Insult those of my House."

"Not an insult," Dumbledore corrected, "Merely an observation. They've been very cruel to her and it must stop."

"I will speak with them," Snape said simply, "And I will have their belongings searched."

"Has the great Severus Snape found someone he cares about?" one of the portraits teased.

Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing the portraits that littered his walls.

"I suspect," he started when the portraits finally calmed down, "That Ms. Lovegood will be returning home for the upcoming holidays. You've prepared the proper potions?"

"Yes," Snaps nodded. He had been working on them all week.

"Good," Dumbledore nodded and he opened his mouth, but closed it again, "I trust you, Severus."

"Is that all?" Snape asked, "Poppy has asked me to restock her inventory."

"That is all, my dear boy," Dumbledore sighed heavily, "That is all."

* * *

Hermione huffed, blowing her bangs out of her face. She didn't think it would be this hard trying to find George Weasley in the crowed of excited third-seventh years.

Finally spotting him, she grinned and bounced over to him, tapping on his shoulder, "Rose Quartz."

George jumped and whipped his head around, his eyes wide. His demeanor instantly calmed when he saw who had snuck up behind him, "Granger? What are you-

"Rose Quartz," Hermione repeated, smiling.

"What are you talking about?" George asked, frowning.

"You're about to go to Hogsmeade, aren't you?" she asked, peering over his side to get a look at the other students.

"Yes," George nodded, "It's the last trip before the holidays."

"I just thought you'd like to know," Hermione smiled once more, "That Lyra really fancies Rose Quartz. She thinks it's beautiful."

"She does?" George's blue eyes widened once more and a flush crept up his neck, "Really?"

"Uh-huh," Hermione nodded, "Really."

"Er…" George cleared his throat, "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem," Hermione sang, turning on her heel and skipping away from the youngest Weasley twin much like Lyra did.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, looking at Hermione's retreating form, "Is Lyra alright?"

"She's fine," George said immediately. He had just been with her before it was time to go to Hogsmeade, "She said she'll be able to return to classes at the start of next week, but she'll have to have a couple of daily checkups until all of her strength comes back."

"They figure out who did it yet?" the oldest Weasley twin asked.

"They think it was some Slytherin," George rolled his eyes, "My guess would be Malfoy from everything Ron's told me."

"Maybe it's because she's been sitting with them?" Fred offered, "Gryffindor's and Slytherin's aren't supposed to mix. It's been that way forever. Literally."

"Ha," Angelina snorted, "Try telling Lyra that. Like she cares about House rivalry. She'll try to make friends with anyone. It's a bit inspiring if you ask me."

"Our Georgie even offered to try all her food for her before she eats it," Lee grinned, clapping George on the back, "Isn't that sweet?"

"Shut up, Lee," George shoved him lightly, the tips of his ears getting even pinker, "It's concerning. School just started and already someone's trying to kill one of our own."

Everyone fell silent after that. Not sure how to properly respond to George's comment.


End file.
